Backstory
by ICanStopAnytime
Summary: Tami Taylor's always wanted to be able to tell her children a romantic tale of how their parents fell in love and of how their father proposed, but this isn't it. This is just Eric and Tami's reality. A Friday Night Lights fanfic featuring Eric Taylor, Tami Hayes, and Mo McArnold.
1. Green Light

**Note:** I'm taking a break from editing, combining, and re-posting "Change Gonna Come" to focus on this new work. I just had a sudden urge to go even farther back in time, decades back. Comments welcome and desired (as always).

**Chapter One**

South Dillon High will shut down in three years, when the oil fields start producing less and people begin moving out of town. All of the remaining students will feed into a school in the town directly north: Dillon. But for now, South Dillon High is home of the Cougars, who are ranked number two in their division and who are, this very season, hoping to win the Texas State Championship for the first time in twelve years.

That's why Mo McArnold is wearing his lucky arrowhead necklace when he slaps his tray down next to Tami's on the long cafeteria table and says, "Hey, gorgeous." After kissing her, he nods to the quarterback, Eric Taylor, who's sitting across from Tami and between a linebacker named Carlos Fuentes and Tom McMann, the punter. All the guys are wearing matching olive green letter jackets. Eric nods back but keeps taking apart his sandwich. He proceeds to eat only the meat and cheese.

"Still trying to bulk up with double meat?" asks Carlos with a smirk.

Tom shakes his head. "Why do you even bother to put it on bread if you aren't going to eat the bread?"

"Because his mama packs his lunch for him." Mo says "mama" in a high, elongated, mocking way and Tami slaps him on the shoulder. She shoots a sympathetic glance at Eric. Eric's mom has been dead for eight years. Mo's not being an intentional jerk about the death. He's just forgotten and is ridiculing his friend in a general sort of way, but Tami's getting tired of that too.

Mo wasn't like this when she started dating him last year, but then he made a few pretty amazing touchdowns the first game of the current season, and ever since he's been a little full of himself. Tami's seen Mo giving Mary Beth the eye and wonders if he isn't already fooling around on the side. For now, though, she tolerates him, because they've had their good times together, and he's cute, and she doesn't want to break up with him before the final playoff game this Friday, because, if the Cougars lose, she knows any old scape goat will do.

Cindy Thompson, Eric's busty blonde rally girl, comes to the table behind him, puts her hands over his eyes, and says, "Guess whooooo" in the high, fake voice Tami can't tolerate.

Eric mutters, "Cindy," without much enthusiasm, and she giggles and tries to squeeze in between Tom and Eric. She's about to sit on Eric's lap when he puts a hand on her waist and pushes her away. She does a pretend pout and says, "Well, you know where to find me if you want me" and then practically skips off.

"You should totally boink her," Tom says. "She obviously wants you."

"Eric's a virgin," Mo snickers.

"Y'all know I have a girlfriend." Eric picks up his milk carton and takes a long swig. A little bit dribbles down his chin and he wipes it with the back of his hand and then wipes his hand on his napkin.

"Yeah, who's been in Germany for months," Carlos reminds him.

"She's coming back," Eric says. "Tomorrow, in fact."

Kim went on some "international study program" for "select high school leaders" that started in the summer but ran into the school year. Tami can't help but be a little impressed that Eric's made it this long: six months without sex, and not a single rumor that he's cheated. Of course, he's not as popular as Mo. Even though Eric's the quarterback, he has a reputation for being a bit of a stick in the mud. He doesn't know how to party the way Mo does. He's usually too busy working at the Whattaburger or studying or doing chores for his father. Eric's also a little on the thin side (though that'll change in less than a year), and he's not as muscular as most of the football players. He's still got a trace of acne, too, unlike Mo, whose skin is as smooth as a baby's bottom, and when he's just shaved, Tami loves to stroke Mo's cheeks. But even if Eric's not as popular as Mo is, he's still fairly cute, and he's still a quarterback, so naturally he still has girls interested in him – girls like Cindy Reynolds.

Eric's girlfriend Kim is sweet, maybe a little too sweet – the all American cheerleader. Tami can see why a girl like her might be seriously into Eric, but he's a little dull for Tami's taste. She can't imagine him ever just showing up on her doorstep the way Mo did this past summer, telling her to pack a bag and driving her all the way to South Padre island, where they laughed and fired shotguns into sand dunes before waiting for the sun to set so they could have sex on the shore, with the waves rolling in. (Tami told her mom she was on a youth retreat with a friend's church, an "approved Christian friend," and Abby, thank God, covered for her.)

Eric's not spontaneous like that. Tami wonders if he does anything without a plan and without saving up for months in advance. She supposes she'd call Eric a friend. They do talk, quite a bit, over the wood fence that separates their backyards. She likes to run out back, slamming the door, every time she fights with her mom, and often he's out there to avoid his dad's constant advice and criticism, either throwing a football through a tire or doing yardwork. Yes, they're friends. At least, she _thinks_ they are. What else do you call a guy who convinced you not to drop out of high school your junior year? Tami seriously considered it because school bores her and her family has no money for college anyway. Besides, Tami makes good tips cutting hair at the Clippery. But Eric told her she has a brain and she should stop hiding it, and if she wanted to go to college, all she had to do was completely ace the SAT's and get a merit scholarship.

"Like it's that easy," she snorted, and he told her, "For you? If you study? Tami, I've seen you pick up stuff like that." He snapped his fingers. "You can walk into a job with no experience at all, and by the end of the week, you've got it down." She'd done that her sophomore year at a car dealership and her junior year at the Clippery.

Eric's words worked on Tami, and she started studying like mad. She _did_ ace the SAT's at the end of her junior year, but she had to retake the test this fall, with a proctor breathing down her neck, because everyone thought she'd cheated. She got ten points better the second time around.

"Good thing Kim's coming back on Thursday, because you have _got_ to relax before Friday's game," Mo says. "You know what I mean." Eric nods but doesn't look at Mo. "I mean man you are _up-tight_, man."

"Yeah," Tom agrees, "But he's always been that way. It'll take more than a little boinking to get him loose."

Boinking is Tom's favorite euphemism. No one bothers to ridicule him for it anymore.

Carlos chimes in next. "Can't believe you've waited for her this whole time."

"Eric's in loooooooove," Mo says sarcastically.

"Why do you say it like that? Aren't you?" Eric nods pointedly to Tami.

Mo gives Eric a look that reads, _Shut up, man _but he says, "Sure" and stands up behind Tami and starts rubbing her shoulders. "I love you, gorgeous." He kisses the top of Tami's head. "But I'm not about to shackle myself at seventeen like you're planning to do." He raises an eyebrow at Eric. "Right? Am I right?" He stops rubbing Tami's shoulders and does a fake boxing faint, and then says, "Red light."

Mo does this anytime he's getting ready to pretend tackle anyone, including Tami. Tami thought it was funny once. It just annoys her now. "Red light," Mo says again, his smile growing, and then he shouts, "Green light," and races around the table. Eric's standing up by now, but it's too late to get away. Mo's got one arm around his waist and is digging in his jacket pocket.

"Give it back!" Eric shouts, and lunges as Mo races back to the other side of the table holding the little jewelry box. Eric steadies himself with Tom's chair and doesn't run after Mo, because everyone knows Mo is fast. He waits until McArnold is on the other side and then tries to grab the box back from across the table, but Mo steps back just as Eric's hand seizes it.

Mo opens the box, looks at the ring, and laughs. "God but that's a puny diamond. Did you have to pull a lot of extra shifts at the Whattaburger to afford that tiny beauty?"

Eric's jaw is clenched so hard Tami's amazed he can get these words out of his mouth: "Give it back."

Tami stands up abruptly, plucks the ring box from Mo's hand, and hands it to Eric. "Stop being an ass," she says to Mo. "And aren't you late for class?"

"Aren't we all?" Mo asks and grabs his tray. Tom and Carlos also clear out but Tami lingers as Eric closes the ring box and slips it into his pocket.

When Eric sits back down in his cafeteria chair, so does Tami in hers.

"Why are you still dating that jerk?" he asks from across the table. "You deserve better than that. You could have any guy."

Tami's not sure she could. She could screw almost any guy, but she doesn't think she could hold onto any. Her first high school boyfriend broke up with her as soon as they had sex, and she only put out in the first place to keep him. Oh, the irony. Mo is probably cheating on her. Her Dad left her too. Guys don't stick around for Tami Hayes.

Eric feels in his pocket, like he's afraid he'll lose the ring if he doesn't hold onto it. "I know it's not my place to say, but I think he's cheating on you with Mary Beth."

"So do I."

Eric's mouth falls open a little before he closes it. "I don't get you sometimes, Tami. You could have something like Kim and I have. Something good. Something that's gonna last."

"Eric, don't you think you're a little young to get married? Seventeen?"

"We'll wait 'til we graduate. We'll be eighteen then."

She rolls her eyes. "How can you even know who you are at eighteen?"

"I've always known who I am." She laughs because she thinks there's some truth to it. Eric's simple. Dependable. An unchanging rock. A dull rock that's happy just hanging out in one spot, serving its purpose, a rock that might have the ambition to grow into a bigger rock over time, but that's certainly not looking to become a tree.

"Well I think it's ridiculous for anyone to get engaged in high school," she says.

"I'll get a scholarship for football. We'll have family housing covered. I've saved up a little money from my work. We'll both get part-time jobs at school. I've got it all planned out."

"I bet you do," Tami says, and shakes her head and stands up. "Get my tray for me, will you?" She grabs her backpack, slings it over her shoulder, and tosses her long hair aside as she heads off, ten minutes late, to class.


	2. Hellbound

**Chapter Two**

Tami's standing almost nose to nose with her mother in the eat-in kitchen. Mom likes to get up in her face like that. Shelley's already run to her bedroom and slammed the door. Tami's sister has probably crawled into bed by now and pulled the covers up all the way over her head the way she usually does when Tami and Mom are fighting. "No, you will not go to the game Friday night," Mom insists, "if you can't be trusted to be home by curfew on Thursday!"

"Nine o'clock is a ridiculous curfew time!" Tami shouts.

"Not for a school night it isn't! So you can forget the playoffs!"

"But Mo is going to be starting. I have to – "

"I told you that you shouldn't be hanging out without boy anyway! You know he's just trying to get you to spread your legs for him!"

What would Mom do if Tami told her she already had, at least a dozen times? What if she told Mom Mo wasn't even the first? Dolly Hayes had been okay with Tami being "friends" with Mo at first, since Mr. McArnold is an elder at the Baptist Temple, but then she'd caught Mo and Tami necking on the couch in the living room one afternoon when she'd been cut early from work, and she'd given Tami a long lecture about boys, sex, and the temptations that lead you to hell.

"I'm eighteen now, Mom, and I'll do what I want." Tami's older than a lot of seniors, almost a year older than Eric. She was a late talker and so her parents held her back from kindergarten.

"Not as long as you're under my roof, you won't. Do you really want to break a commandment like this, Tami? Dishonoring your own mother! In her own house! You know you can go to hell if – "

"- Mom, I think maybe you need to pull out your Bible concordance and look up a few words. Like grace and forgiveness and love. Because that's in the Bible too! A lot more than hell is!"

"Have you been talking to that Catholic boy next door again? Believe me, I know more about grace than he does. Those work-righteousness Catholics think they can work their way into heaven just going around and doing good deeds to make up for all their sins, and sinning and then just saying a quick confession to some priest. They just go through the motions! I bet that boy's never even cracked open a Bible in his entire life. Going through the motions. That's all either of them does, Mr. Taylor or his son, I guarantee you!"

"You don't know Eric. He's about the most decent – "

"Motions and forms! Motions and forms! But when you truly invite Jesus into your heart you'll stop all that stuff! You'll stop disrespecting your mother, you'll stop necking with a boy you aren't even engaged to, you'll stop being so stubborn!"

"No wonder Dad left you!" Tami screams and runs out the back door. She hears her mom's gasp of horror, but just as the screen door is closing the gasp turns into a choke, and Tami realizes she's made her mom weep. For the first few chilly November minutes she's glad she has. Her rage warms her.

Tami once joked to Eric that his single dad and her single mom should get together, but of course Dolly Hayes thinks Graydon Taylor is bound for hell. She's got a suspicious eye on the Catholics. Shelley and Tami pretend to be good little Hayes girls every Sunday when they go to the Baptist Temple. No one at the temple knows they listen to "the devil's rock and roll" at home whenever Mom's working late, or that Tami's hardly a virgin, or that the twelve-year-old Shelley keeps two different Chip and Dale calendars under her mattress.

Tami begins to feel the chill and crosses her arms over herself. She can hear her mother's sobs in the house, loud and gasping, and she thinks of going inside to apologize. She remembers a time when her mother wasn't like this, when she just went to church and sang the hymns and chattered happily with her pew mates and didn't think too much about the whole hellfire angle. That was before Dad left, though, before a retreat into fundamentalism seemed the only sure thing left.

Tami knows her mother is afraid of losing her daughters, the way she lost her husband. Dolly Hayes hopes putting the fear of God into them will keep them close and safe and that they won't repeat the same mistakes of their cheating father. Mrs. Hayes doesn't realize it just drives Tami and Shelley farther away. Tami took psychology as her elective in her junior year, but that's not where she learned to draw conclusions like this. She can just see things like that – she can just guess what other people are feeling and why they feel it, at least, in time she can, when she's gotten some distance and taken herself out of the picture. She can't ever see it in the heat of the moment. Those sobs, though, drifting from the house, cool her angry fire. Tami's about to turn to go inside to try to make a temporary peace with her mother when she hears a long string of obscenities coming from Eric's yard. Then there arises the sound of pounding on the fence that separates their two yards, like someone's taken a baseball bat and begun violently beating the wood.

Tami walks down the three decaying wood steps to the browning grass of her backyard and begins heading toward the fence. She can see Eric's dark hair sticking up just over the top. If he was standing she'd see his face and neck, because it's a low fence, but he's bent over and striking it.

She's almost reached the fence when an object punches through – not a baseball bat, but a crow bar. She steps back as the wood starts splintering all around and the obscenities start to sputter and fade and gaps open up in the planks. There's Eric, a crowbar in one hand, breathing hard and blinking like he's not sure what he's just done.

"Eric?" she asks.

He drops the crowbar, reaches into his jacket, and pulls out the ring box. Tonight, Tami knows, was supposed to be the proposal. He launches the little box like a football. It goes all the way over her small backyard, across the back fence, into the woods, and lands with a light plop in the creek that runs behind them both. He bends over, his hands on his knees, and gathers his breath. Then he straightens up and looks at their shattered, shared fence. "Sorry," he says. "I'll fix it this weekend." He turns and walks away.

Tami goes to the back fence and vaults it. It's not very high and she's good at that sort of thing. The track and field coach tried to talk her into pole vaulting, but she didn't have time for that nonsense, and it's not like anyone cares about track and field in South Dillon. It's not football. It wouldn't have gotten her anywhere.

She makes her way down to the creek and in the moonlight searches the black water. She gets lucky and spies the box, recovers it, and then returns to her own yard. She vaults the shared fence next, where it's not splintered by the crowbar, and walks up the stairs to Eric's back porch. He's left the back door open and only the screen door is closed, even though it's late fall. She knows Mr. Taylor has recently started working late on Tuesdays and Thursdays and won't be home. She can see Eric through the screen, in the kitchen, rummaging around in the crisper. She walks right in and when he turns around, his father's beer in his hand, she stretches the box out to him. "You should at least get your money back," she says.


	3. Friends

The table only fits two people. It's just Eric and his dad living here, and the kitchen's tiny. The Hayes and the Taylors both have one-story, three-bedroom, one-bathroom houses. They're not much to look at. Mr. Taylor owns his house outright, while Mrs. Hayes struggles to pay the mortgage. Eric's got his hand on the beer bottle, and he's staring off at the kitchen sink over Tami's shoulder. They're sitting across from each other, and she's just taken a sip of the beer he offered her. She wonders what Mr. Taylor will do to him when he finds two bottles missing. She doesn't get the impression Eric disobeys his father very often.

"Want to talk about what you did to the fence?" she asks.

"No," he says, and lifts the bottle and takes a long swig. He's still looking off at the sink.

Tami's surprised by the violence of Eric's reaction. He's a tense guy, but he's not a violent guy. He's been in a fight or two – what guy worth his salt hasn't been? – but he doesn't _pick_ fights. He doesn't swear much either, at least not in front of her. Tami knows he wanted Kim to say yes, but seriously? They're young. It's a little scary, actually, how badly he took it. "Don't take it so hard. You're young. You guys have plenty of time."

He looks at her like she's the biggest moron he's ever seen. "Time?"

"Yeah. Plenty of time. Why rush? She's right to say wait, actually, Eric. I know you don't want to hear it, but – "

"She didn't say wait. She said she found another guy in Germany. Four months ago. She never said anything on the phone or in her letters. She says…she needed to tell me in person."

"Oh." Well that's another story altogether. "She let you wait for her? All that time?"

He laughs hollowly. "Yeah. Because she was so generous as to want to tell me in the flesh."

The bottle clicks against his teeth. He swallows the beer like he's choking it down.

Tami slides her bottle forward and throws up her hand. "You know what, screw her! She doesn't deserve you."

A breath, like a laugh but not a laugh, escapes him. "If she doesn't deserve me, why wasn't I good enough for her?" He looks up at the stucco ceiling and swallows. "I wanted to marry her." He chokes on his words and closes his eyes. He's willing himself not to sound too emotional. Not to cry.

"I know," Tami says softly.

He shakes head, eyes, still closed. "I thought… She's it." He opens his eyes and lowers his head. "She was the one."

"There's no such thing as the one."

He raises his eyes to her. "Well I don't expect _you_ to be romantic."

"I've got news for you. No one expects the _star quarterback_ to be a romantic either." Tami brushes a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. There's a hint of light strawberry in there, and it's starting to darken. "You're seventeen, Eric. Seventeen. There'll be someone else. More than one somebody else. Three or four by the time you settle down at thirty. You'll hardly even remember Kim twenty years from now."

He shakes his head. "I don't think it works like that. Maybe I'll get married, but it's never going to be like it was with Kim. We were…like soul mates."

Tami doesn't want to laugh but she does, and then she covers her mouth. She's ticked him off. She can tell by the way his hazel eyes flicker like a fire. Every now and then, like now, she notices how beautiful his eyes are. "I'm sorry, Eric, but…honestly? I know you love her, but you and I have probably talked more over the fence in the past six months than you've ever talked to her, and we sure as hell aren't soul mates."

He sips his beer and eyes her deliberately. "Yeah but you and I never…dated…or anything. We're just neighbors."

"Not friends?" she asks.

"I…yeah…I guess so."

She smiles. Isn't that what she thought, a few days ago? Funny, how they both _suppose_ they're friends. They _guess_, after spending hours complaining about their single parents to one other, after studying for tests together, after Eric inspired her to make something of herself academically, after he ran over in the middle of the night to take her mom to the hospital when she broke a leg, after they wallpapered his living room together while joking about the hideous brown and gold pattern his father chose, after all this…they guess they're friends. But Tami's done guessing. "Well you're the best friend I've ever had, Eric."

"I am?"

"I couldn't ask for a better one."

"I guess I've always thought of you as Mo's girlfriend. Mo's my friend and you're his girlfriend. But that's kind of stupid, now that I think about it. I don't even like Mo. I like you."

She smiles. "We've kind of been there for each other, haven't we?"

He nods. He reaches for the wet ring box Tami has left in the middle of the table, pulls it to himself, opens it, and turns the diamond toward her. "Want a friendship ring?" he asks and smiles. She laughs.

"Save it for the next love of your life," she says. "Or at least to trade in for a bigger one."

"Mo was right. It is kind of small, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't have cared, if it was me," Tami says. "I'd just be glad I was getting a guy I could rely on, who made me laugh, who had a big heart, who could be trusted, who was faithful to me even when it wasn't easy, who's responsible, who…" She trails off because it suddenly hits her, like a slap across her face, that she's in love with Eric Taylor. She has no idea when or how that happened. But somehow, it did.

He's looking at her strangely. God, is she that obvious? Does he know? _She_ didn't even know! Not until a second ago. He can't know, can he? Why is he looking at her like that? His eyes are a little moist. "Thank you," he says. "Thanks for…it's nice to hear that. It's nice to be encouraged for a change." He looks like nobody's ever said admiring things to him before, but of course girls have. Maybe, though, he's always wondered if they really mean it. All of Kim's past encouragement must seem like a lie to him at the moment. As for Cindy, she just wants to bask in the glow that would naturally surround any half decent Texas high school quarterback. Eric doesn't have a mother to tell him he's worthwhile, and God knows his dad doesn't do it.

"Thanks," he repeats. "It means a lot." He slides his chair around the table so he's close to her. Her hand is on the table and he puts his own around it. She's surprised – he's never really touched her before, except when he had to once, to push her out of the way when a tree branch splintered off in the courtyard at school during break and nearly hit her. He just looks at his hand on hers for a while, but then he raises those stunning hazel eyes to hers and says, "You're Mo's girlfriend so I don't really..." He chews on his lip and looks back at the hands. "I had a girlfriend so I didn't really…" He raises his eyes again, half way. "Most of the time I don't think about how incredibly amazing and beautiful you are." And then he leans in and kisses her.

Tami doesn't expect to feel what she feels. The tingle, the spark, the sudden desire for more. She doesn't expect it. She's never thought of Eric as passionate. He's too predictable to be passionate. He's too calculated. He's too…he's just Eric! _It's just Eric!_ But oh God she doesn't want the kiss to stop. She doesn't want it ever to stop. She wants so very much more, but she doesn't want to want more.

She pulls abruptly away and shouts, "Stop!"

"I'm so sorry." He releases her hand. "Tami, please don't…please still be my friend."

She shakes her head.

"Tami, please, I'm so -"

"I don't mean no to that. Of course I'll be your friend. Just don't ever kiss me again."

"I'm sorry. I thought maybe you…I thought maybe you liked me. I mean, not as a friend, I mean…for a minute I thought—"

"—I don't want to be your rebound chick. I don't want that." She stands. Is she about to cry? Tami Hayes? No. No way. She's not doing that. Not in front of Eric. "That's not what I want." She wants more than that. A _lot_ more than that. She walks backward toward the screen door. "Find someone else for that."


	4. Rebounding

Eric Taylor does find someone else. His rally girl, Cindy Reynolds. The Cougars win the playoffs, mostly because of Mo's star moves, since Eric's own head is far from being in the game. Rumor has it that at the celebratory party that follows, Cindy and Eric are spied making out in a walk-in closet. The further buzz is that while his dad is working late the next Tuesday night, Eric invites Cindy over to his house and gives her the ride of her life in his twin bed. Eric doesn't tell Tami that, and maybe he doesn't tell his fellow football players, but Cindy's giving everyone the 411, and Tami's trying not to hear it.

Thursday night, though, when Tami's out in the backyard smoking while her mom is at a woman's Bible study over at the Baptist Temple, she hears Eric's front door open and goes to the front edge of the back fence and looks, even though she doesn't want to, and sure enough, it's Cindy, heading for her car, whistling. The girl is actually whistling. "Hi, Tami," she hollers, and waves, like she's bragging that she just bagged the quarterback.

Tami's getting ready to turn away when Eric comes out his back door, walks to the fence, looks at the splintered wood, and says, "Sorry, I really meant to do that last Saturday. Tell your mom it'll be fixed this weekend."

"Was your dad pissed when he saw it?" Tami asks.

"Yeah, but not at me. I told him some guys from the Panthers did it. Pre-game rivalry stuff."

Tami gazes to her right, over to the street Cindy's just driven down. "You really like her?" She doesn't want to know, but she can't help asking.

"Cindy? She's wicked hot."

"Yeah. That's not what I asked."

He shrugs. "You told me to find a rebound chick, didn't you?"

Tami doesn't like the idea of him having sex with someone he doesn't even care about. Not that most of the football players haven't done it. Not that Mo hasn't done it. But that's not Eric. That's not what makes him different. That's not what she loves about him. "You don't worry about breaking her heart?"

"She knows what this is. She's already got her eye on the next football player when she's done with me."

"You mean when you're done with her." Tami says it bitterly, more bitterly than she means to. "Good thing it wasn't me." That was exactly the fate she wanted to escape, because she's been used and spit out, but not by Eric. Never by Eric. And she doesn't ever want to be.

"It wouldn't have been you."

"What's that mean?" she asks.

"It means….what it means." He looks away, toward the creek. "Do you really think I'm being a jerk?"

"Cindy's a big girl I guess."

He looks back at her. "I don't want you to think badly of me."

"I don't."

"You're opinion matters to me. More than anyone else's." He's studying the grass now.

Tami steps up to the low fence. "Then dump her before she gets hurt, because she could really fall for you, you know." He's not hard to fall for.

"We've only gone out a few times. Won't I seem like more of a jerk if after a week I – "

"-You'll seem like more of a jerk after you let her falls in love with you."

He puts his hand on the fence. "Listen, Cindy and I didn't…we didn't…we fooled around a little. We did some stuff. We didn't go all the way. Just so you know."

"It's not my business."

"I just want you to know," he says.

Headlights shine in the carport at the front of Eric's house. Neither the Taylors nor the Hayes have a garage. A car door slams and smoke drifts in the night air, along with a muttered curse. Then there's Mr. Taylor's voice, "Damnit, Eric! When you bring up the trashcan, put it all the way against the wall! Don't leave it a foot out like that." There's the sound of a plastic hitting brick. "What are you doing back there?" Mr. Taylor steps stiffly off the carport and starts limping along the side front yard toward the back gate. The smoke curls closer. "You better not be raking because you were supposed to do that _before_ school. You should be in bed. You've got State tomorrow. You -" He stops a foot from the gate because he's finally noticed Tami on the other side of the fence. His tone morphs into one of cool politeness. "Ms. Hayes," he says. He lowers the hand that's holding his cigar to his side.

"Mr. Taylor," Tami replies. "How are you?"

With the hand that's not holding his cigar, Mr. Taylor takes off his hat, an old-fashioned, beige panama that matches his suit. Eric says he always does that when he's in the presence of a woman.

Eric's dad is a car salesman, but for the past month, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, he's been staying late at the office after the dealership is closed. Eric says it has something to do with the books. Mr. Taylor's hair is even darker than his son's, and he's unusually tall, a good three inches taller even than Eric. He's a lanky man, and it's hard for Tami to imagine he was ever a quarterback, but that's what he's famous for in South Dillon – for getting drafted straight out of college to the NFL his second year and quitting school. What he's not so famous for is promptly being released from his contract less than a year later when he blew out his knee. He's had surgery on that knee twice, and he still walks with a limp. "I'm well. And you?"

"Can't complain," Tami says.

Mr. Taylor glances from Tami to Eric, and he doesn't say it, but what Tami reads in his face is, "Why are you talking to this tramp again?"

"Mr. Taylor," Tami says, because she has no other way to lash out for that look, "my mom would like you to trim back the bushes in the front between us. She doesn't like your bushes growing into our yard."

"Well I don't like her bush either."

Tami's eyes widen and Eric chokes down a laugh.

Mr. Taylor eyes his son rebukingly and says to Tami, "I mean the one at the corner of your driveway. It blocks my view when I'm backing out. She should remove that."

"I'll let her know your opinion," Tami says while suppressing a smile.

Mr. Taylor puts back on his hat so he can reach into his coat pocket and pull out a necklace – a silver chain with some kind of oval pendant at the end. He steps all the way up to the gate and reaches over it toward Eric. "I got you this to wear tomorrow."

Eric reaches his hand over, palm out, to accept the chain and then shuts his fingers over it. "Thanks, Dad," he says.

"Be inside in five minutes," Mr. Taylor tells him. "You need your rest."

"Yes, sir."

Eric's father walks back to the front of the house.

"A necklace?" Tami asks when he's gone. "Seriously? Your dad just gave you a necklace?"

"It's a St. Christopher's medal."

Tami shakes her head. "We don't do saints." That's another thing Mrs. Hayes has criticized the 'Taylor boys' for. They're 'saint and Mary worshippers,' as far as she's concerned. "Isn't he that sailor guy?"

"He's the patron saint of sailors, yeah," Eric says, slipping the chain around his neck and tucking it inside the long sleeve Cougars sweatshirt he's wearing, "but also of athletes."

"You believe all that stuff?"

He shrugs. "Can't hurt." He puts his hand back on the fence. "Why, you believe all that stuff they tell you over at the Baptist Temple?"

"I don't believe ninety-five percent of it."

It's clear he expected her to say no, not all of it, but he apparently didn't expect the ninety-five percent figure, because he looks a little surprised. "Really? So, what? You're an atheist? Or just an agnostic?"

"No, I don't mean that. I believe in God and Jesus and the all that I guess. I just don't believe in all the rules. Thou shalt not wear shorts that fall above the knees. Thou shalt not listen to rock n' roll. Thou shalt not have sex outside of marriage. Thou shalt – "

"- Yeah, Mo says it's pretty crazy over there."

"No crazier than at your church, I'm sure."

Years later, Eric and Tami will compromise on Methodism, except it won't really be a compromise, since Eric's never been deeply attached to his Catholicism and Tami has always wanted to get away from her mother's particular brand of religion. Methodism will just be where they end up, after the month of frantic church hopping that will follow their realization that they're about to become parents and they don't have any family to help. They'll be living hundreds of miles from their parents when Julie is born. Eric will be the one who suggests they find a church, and he'll have to persuade a reluctant Tami. He'll tell her churchgoing brought him some comfort in his youth, even if it brought her only grief. He'll say that life, like football, is made richer by shared rituals and that traditions breed unity. He'll say he's terrified to be a father without a host of grandmas and grandpas and aunts and uncles to meddle with unsolicited but secretly desired advice, and a church will give them that. Tami will finally agree, and, ironically, years later, when Julie is in elementary school, Tami will be the one to persuade him to keep going when he declares he would much rather stay home, sleep in, nad start his Sunday football viewing earlier. She, and not Eric, will be the one to worry when Julie doesn't want to go to church anymore. But right now, Tami doesn't know any of that.

Eric smiles and says, "Well, Father Matthew likes rock n' roll at least." He has a really cute smile. It makes him look less serious, almost happy. Tami could get used to a happy Eric and wonders if she could make him smile more often if they dated, or if he'd just get tired of her, like Mo, like Mark before Mo, like her father before any of them.

"I have to go," she says, and turns and walks quickly to her back stairs. She can sense Eric lingering in his yard until she's vanished inside.


	5. A Proper Date

Eric does break it off with Cindy. The rally girl is pissed, but not for long. She moves on. One late December night when Tami's sitting in the dim glow of the porch light on the bottom stair outside, her coat buttoned tight and wearing her fingerless gloves and smoking, Eric clambers over the fence he's repaired and sits next to her. When he asks for a drag, she hands him the cigarette. He sucks and coughs, she laughs, and he admits it's not his thing.

"Shouldn't be mine either," she confesses. "I'll quit when I go to college. I hear it's not as popular there."

"And you're all about the popular, right?" he asks.

"Yep, that's me. Ms. Popularity."

"Well you _are_ dating Mo."

"You haven't heard? We broke up." She figured if she did it after the Cougars won State, she couldn't be blamed for jinxing the game. It's only been a week since she gave Mo the official word. He was a little more startled than she expected, and he actually seemed upset – more than a "my pride is wounded upset," but like maybe he really liked her. Not enough not to two time her, apparently, but enough to keep her as his main squeeze with Mary Beth on the side.

"Why?" Mo asked when Tami told him it was over. "I love you, gorgeous. Come on! You know that."

"As much as you love Mary Beth?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I know, Mo. I _know_."

"Who told you that lie? Was it Taylor? I hear now that it's over between him and Kim he's trying to bang every girl in sight, so don't believe a word he says! He's probably just put you on his list!"

"It's _you_ I don't believe," she said, and turned on her heels. Mo followed, but she got into her friend Angie's truck, and they peeled off. He called three times after that, and then he gave up and just made Mary Beth his number one.

Eric shakes his head. "I haven't seen Mo in a while." Eric and his dad went to San Antonio for the first half of winter break to see Mr. Taylor's sister for Christmas. They've been back for a few days, but Tami supposes Eric's been busy helping his dad insulate the attic.

Tami stubs out her cigarette in the ash tray on the stair behind her. She'll dump the evidence over the fence later and then hide the ashtray behind the wood mesh under the porch where she and Shelley also keep a metal footlocker full of the kind of tight, low-cut shirts their mom refuses to let them wear. Dolly Hayes can smell the smoke, of course, but Tami just blames it on Mr. Taylor's cigars, because her mom doesn't know the difference. "Where is your old man anyway? I know he works late Tuesday and Thursday, but _this_ late? It's eleven. What is there to do at a closed car dealership until eleven?"

"He's got a lady." Eric says "lady" in a deep, exaggerated voice that makes Tami laugh.

It's hard for Tami to imagine Mr. Taylor making time with anyone. She supposes he's good looking, for a forty year old, but he's got that limp, and he doesn't talk much except to say a curt hello to Tami or to tell Eric what he's doing wrong when he's doing chores. She guesses he might have a small amount of heart in him somewhere, but he's not the most personable man around, and that's a major understatement. "Really? Have you met her?"

"Nope. He claims she doesn't exist. But what else could he be doing? He doesn't come home until midnight two, sometimes three times a week. He's got to have a woman. Unless he's dealing on the street corner."

Tami laughs, so much that she coughs.

"Yeah you need to quit those cigarettes," Eric says, even though she's stubbed it out and that's not why she's coughing. "You're too beautiful for that."

"Don't do that," she says.

"Do what?"

"Say things like that."

"Sorry, you're too smart for that. You know, I've always liked you for more than your looks."

"I know that, Eric." He's seen things in her Mo didn't. He's seen things in her that her own mother hasn't. He's seen things no one has. "That's not what I mean. I mean don't make me think we have a chance together."

"Why?"

"Because…" she laces her hands together, her arms resting on her knees, and studies her fingers. "What if we don't?"

"What if we do?"

She stands up. "You said there's only one."

He stands up, and off the stairs, he's almost eye to eye with her. "You said there's not."

She looks away.

"Try me," he says.

"I don't want to ruin what we already have. This friendship. I don't want to lose it."

"Just go out with me once. On a proper date."

"_Proper_?" She laughs. "God, only you would say something like that."

"What's wrong with a proper date?"

She finally looks at him. His eyes are smiling in the moonlight, and somehow – maybe it's the expansive winter Texas sky, maybe it's the stars twinkling above them, maybe it's how secure she feels around him, how completely herself, or maybe it's that he actually seems happy, standing here with her, but it feels like possibility – like possibility itself is coursing through the air.

She leans down and kisses his earlobe. "Nothing," she whispers in his ear, "But what if I want an _improper_ date?"

She can see his lips twitching and she can feel the skin of his face growing warm near her own, but he pulls back and shakes his head. "Nah," he says. "I'm going to woo you first. Properly."

She laughs again. "_**Woo**_ me?"

"Yep." He walks backwards two steps. "Just so you know for _**sure**_ you're not a rebound chick."

"How long are you going to do that?" she asks.

"As long as it takes for you to _**know**_. Saturday night? Seven? I pick you up? In my stunning chariot?" He jerks a thumb toward his driveway, where sits the used, much-dented, 1981, two-door pick up he bought after he sold the engagement ring he got for Kim. He's retired his Schwinn ten-speed now and takes his new baby everywhere.

Tami nods, and her face feels like it's all one smile.


	6. Taking Things Slowly

**Chapter Six**

Tami doesn't let Eric pick her up at her door. She tells her mom she's going to her best friend Angie's house to help her with her college applications. Angie is an "approved" friend because her mom and Tami's mom were once in a community Bible study together, even though Angie's family doesn't go to the Baptist Temple. Fortunately, Angie's mom and Mrs. Hayes don't talk to each other very often, and the two girls have made each other their go-to excuse when they don't want their moms knowing what they're up to.

Tami walks two blocks to where Eric's parked and waiting for her. She's about to open the door when he throws open his and hollers, "Wait!" and rushes around to open it for her, smiling.

"Ooooh…" she says. "Totally suave. Although I _am_ perfectly capable of opening doors for myself, believe it or not."

His smile fades. She kisses his cheek. "It's okay. I was teasing. I like it." He gives her an arm when she climbs inside because it is a bit of a step up. At least the truck has a decent heater. It's a particularly cold day for South Dillon. As soon as they're driving, though, she unzips her coat. She's just thrown on a pair of tight blue jeans, but she wants him to see the silky, red blouse she's chosen because she thinks it flatters her. He notices, but he returns his attention to the road.

She takes a look at the interior, which he seems to have taken care to keep clean, even if the previous owner scuffed it up something awful. "Your dad's a used car salesman," she says. "He couldn't get you a better deal than this?"

"He did get me a deal on this. I didn't want to spend my entire savings."

"What are we doing?" she asks. It's 7:30 and they've both already eaten at home with their parents. Tami has a ten o'clock curfew on weekends, even when she's just helping Angie prepare college applications, and she doesn't want a fight that might end in her not being able to see Eric for a while, so they've only got two and a half hours together. "Movies?" she asks.

"Nah. I don't want to just stare at a screen with you. I want to interact."

She raises an eyebrow, "Interact?" If Mo said that (although he wouldn't say it, because he'd never choose a bizarre word like "interact") he'd mean he wanted to park someplace dark and make out. She thinks that must be what Eric means, though it's a strange way to put it. So much for the promised wooing.

"I thought we'd drive to Centertown," he says, "and walk around and look at the Christmas lights before they take them all down." Centertown really goes all out on its Christmas displays, and it has a scenic historic downtown area with lots of shops and cafes. The town is a good thirty minute drive, but a night-time stroll beneath those gorgeous lights does sound rather romantic. "Get some hot chocolate?" He looks at her out of the corner of her eye. He sounds strangely nervous, not so confident as he was when he asked her out.

It dawns on her that he's seeking her approval. "Yeah, I'd like that," she says, and he looks relieved.

Maybe he's planned the cold, because it forces her to cuddle in closely to him, two arms laced through one of his, her head leaned on his shoulder, while they walk. She murmurs over some of the displays and shakes her head at others. They laugh together over one shop window with a pair of creepy elves. After a few blocks, they duck into a bakery with two-person tables and have hot chocolate and cookies and talk, like they often do over the fence or on Tami's backstairs, and it strikes her that she never really spent a lot of time talking to either Mark or Mo, and when she did, it was mostly about football or who the worst teachers were. Eric mentions football a few times, but it isn't the only thing he talks about. Mostly he just asks her questions. "Who's your favorite musician right now? You reading anything? Which colleges are you applying to? What do you think of that new English teacher?" She wonder who's trained him to be attentive on dates, since he hasn't got a mother anymore - if it's his father, or if he's just genuinely that interested in what she has to say. He's just reached out across the table and laced his fingers through hers when Mo and Mary Beth walk through the door.

Mary Beth rubs her hands together, announces, "I so have to pee!" and disappears to the restroom.

Mo comes up to their table and looks at their hands laced together. "So, Taylor," he says. "Making time with my girl, are you?"

"I'm not your girl anymore, Mo," Tami tells him.

"Did you lie and tell her I was cheating on her?" Mo asks. Seriously, he's still pretending he was faithful? "Steal my girlfriend, do you? When we're supposed to be a team? A _brotherhood_?"

Eric doesn't say anything to all this. He looks both nervous and amused at once.

"Stand up, Taylor," Mo demands.

Eric finally speaks. "Come on, man, this is silly."

"Red light," Mo says.

"Oh, Jesus," Tami mutters.

"Red light," Mo repeats.

Eric stands up. "Listen, I'm on a date here, and – "

"Green light!" Mo slams into Eric's side and smashes him to the floor. In the process the table tips. It doesn't fall over. It falls back on its legs, but the movement is enough to spill over the hot chocolate, which falls onto Tami's arm. She curses and races to the bathroom, which Mary Beth is just exiting, to run cold water over the burn. When she comes back, Eric is lying sideways across Mo who is on his back. Eric has Mo in a chokehold while McArnold is pushing his feet along the floor moving around in a circle trying to work his way loose. By now there's quite the crowd. Mo breaks loose, but before he can grab Eric, Eric stands up. Mo uses a chair to pull himself up and punches Eric in the gut. There's a woosh of air and then Eric strikes back, at Mo's face.

"Thanks for the great first date," Tami hollers sarcastically to Eric as she grabs her coat from off the floor (her chair has fallen over) and disappears out the front door to the jingle of bells. She finds somebody she knows from school and hitches a ride home.

At about eleven, while she's sitting up in bed reading, there's the sound of pebbles hitting her window. She looks out at Eric in her back yard. The window hasn't been opened in weeks, since it's winter, and it takes her awhile to jar it loose.

"What?" she asks.

"Can we talk? Please?"

She sighs, says she'll be out in five, and throws on a coat and boots. On the back stairs he just sits next to her and doesn't say anything for a time. Finally, he ventures, "I didn't start it you know. Don't start, finish. That's what my dad always tells me."

"Yeah, but you sure got into it. That was humiliating for me."

"Sorry. Is your arm a'ight? Did you get burned?"

She tells him it's okay now, though it still hurts a little bit.

"Any chance I could have another chance?"

She's thinking about it, but when she doesn't answer right away, he says, "Please? Mo started it. I'll do it right next time. Wherever you want to go, whatever you want to do, I'll do it right – "

She laughs. "You know what? You did it right this time."

"I did?"

"Except for the fighting with Mo part, which he _did_ start. I really liked your idea. The lights, the hot chocolate…it was nice. I had a really good time until Mo showed up."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He smiles and leans in and kisses her. It's not as electrifying as their first kiss, but it feels good. He's gentle and he doesn't linger long. "Just a taste," he says, "of what's in store for you." She laughs because she knows he's just play acting at arrogant. Mo said the same sort of things, but he meant them. He stands and steps down the stairs.

"Hey," she says, and he turns to face her where she's sitting, "I know I said that thing about maybe wanting an improper date." He smiles and his face warms. It's pretty obvious to her that he's think about having sex with her. "But…then you said that thing about…" she laughs, "_wooing_…and I'm wondering, is it really okay with you if we take it slow? I mean pretty slow?"

"How slow?"

"I don't know," she says because she's never really done that before. The first time she had sex, she just wanted to get sex over with, and to keep Mark. She didn't keep him. He broke up with her soon after he got his. She made Mo wait a little longer, but when he started making noises that suggested he'd have to move on if she didn't put out, she gave in. If she was willing to psychoanalyze herself, the way she did her mother, she'd know her dad taking off had left her feeling desperate for male approval and yet simultaneously cynical about the possibility of a lasting relationship, but she wasn't willing to psychoanalyze herself. She only knew she didn't want things to go with Eric the way they had with Mark, the way they had with Mo. "I just…don't know."

"Well…just…" he's says, "Let me know when you know."

She smiles. "Okay."

"I'm not in any hurry, Tami. I like you. A lot. I mean, I'm totally available. Anytime you want." She laughs. "But I…you know, Kim and I dated for almost a whole year first."

"_Really?_"

Then again, Kim was a good girl. Kim was the all American cheerleader straight A student who sung in the Catholic church choir. Eric wouldn't have expected Kim to put out from the get go. He already knew Tami did. Granted, Tami had only ever gone all the way with two guys – and she'd gone steady with Mo for quite a while, but she did have a reputation for consistently letting a guy get to second base by the second date and third base by the third. She wasn't Kim. So there was no reason Eric would treat her the same way. After all, he'd done "some stuff" with Cindy right off the bat. Isn't that what he would expect of Tami?

Yet here he was, telling her it wasn't. "Really."

"It's not that I'm not attracted to you," she says. "I'm totally…you're really cute, Eric. And sweet."

He groans. "Sweet. That's the kiss of death."

"No it's not!" she insists. "It's just…I really like you. I just want to try taking it slow this time. Is that okay?"

"I already said it was!" He's clearly frustrated now. "Why do you keep asking?" She lowers her head and he comes and sits back down next to her on the stair and puts an arm around her. "You're not as tough as you act," he says, and he kisses the top of her head. She leans into him, and they look at the starts silently, until Tami hears a door slam inside the house and, fearing her mother will catch them, leaps up and disappears inside.


	7. A Drinking Game

Tami lets herself be "wooed" for the next three months, as winter thaws into spring. She keeps the relationship a secret from her mother, while Eric softens Mrs. Hayes by doing free yardwork, answering her always with a deferential "yes, ma'am," and even occasionally quoting scripture specifically for her benefit. He goes so far as to buy, as his reference point, a King James Version—the _only_ authorized version, as far as Mrs. Hayes is concerned—rather than dusting off the Catholic NAB his father keeps on a bookcase in his study. Tami thinks by the time her mom finds out they're dating, she'll have grown to like Eric. Mrs. Hayes has already stopped referring to him as "that Catholic boy," and, once, after Eric mowed their lawn without being asked, her mom even said, "He's very polite, that young man. Very kind too."

Tami's less certain that Mr. Taylor likes her. Eric's father, unlike Mrs. Hayes, knows there's something going on between them because he came home sick from work one afternoon and caught them kissing in the kitchen. He didn't subject them to any lectures like Tami's mom would. He just pretended he didn't see it, grabbed the entire bottle of orange juice from the fridge, and disappeared silently to his bed room. Tami asked Eric what his dad thought of them dating, and he said, "My dad never has an opinion about my love life, as long as it doesn't interfere with football, grades, or chores."

Mr. Taylor does seem to care about the last three, Tami thinks. He's strict, in a completely different way than her mother. Eric doesn't have a curfew at all, and he isn't forbidden to date certain types of girls, but his dad thinks anything lower than a B+ is failing in school. On the rare occasions when Tami hears him talking to Eric, Mr. Taylor is mostly grumbling about what his son has done wrong around the house – he trimmed the bushes too low, he used too much wax on the car, he used too few coats of paint on the porch, he didn't mow in straight lines. And football – Mr. Taylor is at every single game, and he's not one of those annoying dads who questions the coach or tries to get his son more playtime, but Eric says that afterwards, at home, Mr. Taylor dissects his mistakes one by one. "He thinks he's helping me become a better player," Eric says. "He means well. But I wish he'd just say 'Good game' like a normal father."

"_Are_ there normal fathers?" Tami asks. Her own dad split, Mark's dad was an alcoholic, and Mo's dad hit on her once when she was left alone with him for five minutes.

"Kim's dad is pretty cool," he says, and then looks away, and Tami is suddenly reminded that she isn't _the one_, that's she's just the friend who was there to pick up the pieces. At least she wasn't the rebound chick, though, like Cindy. Eric is treating her like a true, steady girlfriend . He even seems to respect her. So far, he has yet to pressure her for sex the way Mark and Mo both did, and she's enjoying taking things slowly for a change.

One Thursday evening, though, when Mr. Taylor is supposed to be working late and Mrs. Hayes is at her weekly woman's Bible study, Tami and Eric are lying side by side on the couch in the Taylors' living room, their fully clothed bodies pressed together, kissing. Hands go under shirts, and their breath grows raspy. When Tami shifts her hips, Eric unsnaps and unzips her jeans and slides a hand inside. She moans, but she takes his hand, moves it away, and re-zips and re-buttons herself. She sits up, and, looking very confused, he sits up beside her.

It's not that she doesn't _want_ to do it - God knows she does, more than she's ever wanted sex with any guy before - but even more than she wants that, she wants things to be different this time. For just a little while longer, she wants a relationship that isn't all about finding the next opportunity for sex. She wants to be _sure_. She doesn't want to do it just because it's about time, or because she's horny. She wants to take it seriously. She wants it to be special. She wants it to _mean_ something.

"Sorry," he says, catching his breath. "I thought you wanted to. You…You're not ready?"

She is and she isn't. "I just want to wait a little longer," she says, because that's the most honest answer she can give him. She looks at the burnt orange shag carpet when she says it. She knows it's been a few months already and Eric has to be getting impatient, especially when he knows she didn't wait long with her first two boyfriends.

When Eric says, "Okay" she's waiting for the "_but_" because when she told Mark she wasn't ready, he said, "Okay, but I can't wait forever." When she gave Mo the red light, he said, "Okay, but I'm going to get blue balls if you keep backing off like this." She gave into both a week later, well before she was ready, because she doesn't like being left behind.

"Okay," Eric repeats, and there is no "but." Instead, he kisses her cheek and asks, "Want to play Atari?"

Tami's the one who suggests they make it interesting and turn Combat into a drinking game. Eric hems and haws because he's afraid his dad will notice some of his scotch is missing, even though Mr. Taylor didn't notice he was two beers short that night Kim broke up with Eric. "He'll never know," Tami insists. "That bottle is HUGE." And it is. It sits on a tea cart in the living room and rises almost two feet. There's a blue bow on it. "Where did he get that anyway?"

"He won it," Eric tells her, "for selling the most cars last year."

They agree that whoever loses will have to drink a shot. Eric's a whiz at Combat, though, and he spins her tank all around the black field. She loses three times in a row, and she's good and drunk after Eric's final victory. She stands up from where they've been sitting with the joysticks on the floor and nearly falls over. He stands and steadies her and laughs. She throws her arms around his neck and tells him how adorable he is. "I want you," she says. "Let's do it. Let's go to your bedroom."

He laughs giddily and his face flushes with excitement, but then he bites down on his lip. "You're really drunk," he says. "And you just said no less than an hour ago. I better get you home."

She's relieved because she wanted to and she didn't want to at the same time. She's about to thank him when the front door opens and Mr. Taylor half strides, half limps into the room. Eric said he wouldn't be home until midnight, and it's only nine.

Mr. Taylor looks across at Tami, clinging unsteadily to Eric, and then down at the shot glass lying on its side on the living room floor. He gazes across to the tea cart at the giant, uncapped bottle of scotch. Then he rips off his panama hat, tosses it on the couch, and says, "Eric. Kitchen. Now."

Eric lets go of Tami, who manages to stay standing up, and follows his father nervously to the kitchen. Somehow Tami makes her way over and hovers behind the half-wall partition to listen. Tami thinks Mr. Taylor will start yelling the way her mom does, that he'll rip into Eric over the scotch, or maybe accuse him of wasting his time with a slut like Tami. But his voice is low, low and tense, and she can just barely make out what he says: "Were you getting Ms. Hayes drunk to take advantage of her?"

"No, sir. We were just playing – "

"She's drunk, and you poured that liquor for her – "

" - Dad – "

"- And she was hanging all over you, and you're going to tell me you had no intention – "

" – Sir - "

"- Your mother would be turning over in her grave. I promised her I'd raise you right. No son of mine is going to take advantage of – "

"- Dad, listen – "

Quite suddenly, Mr. Taylor voice climbs, and what he yells is the strangest thing: "Do you even know what day this is?"

"Th…th….thursday," Eric stutters.

Mr. Taylor's voice is low again. "It's April 17th. This is the day your mother died. Nine years ago to the day. And _you_," he shouts the you, "have the nerve to dishonor – "

Tami rounds the corner and steadies herself against the wall. "Sir," she interrupts him. "Eric wasn't trying to take advantage of me. _**I**_ suggested the drinking game. _H_e was just about to walk me home. He was the perfect gentleman to me. Really."

Mr. Taylor looks from Tami to Eric and then back to Tami. "Does your mother even know you're here?"

"No, sir," she says.

"I'll walk you home. Clean up the living room," he tells Eric. "And you're grounded until graduation. No dates, no hanging out with the guys, nothing but work and school. Got it?"

"But, Dad, senior prom is – "

" - Grounded until graduation."

"Yes, sir."

Tami clings to the wall. She's already bought her dress and hidden it under her bed. She was planning to sneak out, the same way she did with Mo for their junior prom. Tami's mom doesn't approve of high school dances. "Dancing leads to sex," Mrs. Hayes says, but she goes to bed early when it's not a Bible Study night – usually by nine o'clock, because she has to be at her first job at six in the morning. Dolly Hayes works two jobs now, because Mr. Hayes stopped sending any money six months ago. They know he's still alive, because Tami and Shelley got a Christmas card from him, but there was no return address. Tami wanted to keep the card, but Shelley took the lighter Tami hides with her cigarettes in her underwear drawer and burned it.

Mr. Taylor takes Tami by the elbow. She doesn't want to touch him, but she has to lean on him a little if she's going to make it. Bushes divide their front lawns, so Mr. Taylor's got to walk her down his driveway, over the sidewalk, and up her driveway to her front door. It's a jerky journey, between his limp and Tami's unsteady legs.

When they arrive, she leans against her front door and says, "Thanks" and waits for him to leave.

"I think I need to speak to your mother. She's home, I assume?"

"No," Tami says hastily. "No, she's still at her Bible study." Tami had every intention of being home before her mom, who isn't expected for another hour yet.

"Then I guess she and I will have to speak tomorrow."

"You're going to tell her?" Tami almost weeps her question. Maybe it's the terrified look in her eyes, or maybe it's that Mr. Taylor really doesn't like talking to Mrs. Hayes, but he says, "I guess I don't have to. This time."

"Thank you so much. Thank you, Mr. – "

"_This_ time. You understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, sir," she says.

He looks down the street. The lamps are on, casting a dim glow on the asphalt. No one's out. "Listen, Ms. Hayes. For some reason I can't fathom, my son's in love with you, so I'm pretty sure it won't do me any good to completely forbid him to see you." In _love_ with her? Eric hasn't said that. Not once. "But he's been a decent kid most of his life. He never snuck alcohol from me before he was seeing you." That's not true. He snuck those two beers, but Tami doesn't tell Mr. Taylor that, of course. "So I'm going to ask you, directly, please don't be a roadblock to him."

"Are you asking me to break it off with him?"

"No," Mr. Taylor says. "I'm asking you to keep in mind that he has plans. He's got a football scholarship, but they can always revoke it. There's character clauses and all that. He doesn't need to be throwing any monkey wrenches into the works."

"What kind of wrenches?"

"I don't know. Getting arrested for public drunkenness. Drunk driving. Getting a girl pregnant."

"Eric's very responsible," she says. "What makes you think he's not?" When Mr. Taylor doesn't reply, she says, "Oh, I get it. You think _I'm_ not. You think I'll bring him down."

"Have a good night, Ms. Hayes," he says, and starts limping down the walkway. Tami stumbles angrily into the house.


	8. Star-crossed Lovers

Eric obeys his father and keeps himself grounded, even though Mr. Taylor works a lot and wouldn't see, any afternoon and many evenings, if he went out. "I don't like that I disappointed him," he tells Tami at the fence one night, where they meet to talk and steal quick, short kisses over the planks.

"You didn't do anything wrong," she says.

"I stole his scotch."

"Because I made you."

"You didn't _make_ me," he says.

"He thinks so. He thinks I'm a slut who's corrupting you."

Eric tenses. "He said that?"

"No, he didn't _say_ that. But I'm pretty sure he _thinks_ it."

"He's never said anything negative about you to me," Eric assures her. "Not that it matters what he thinks. It isn't up to him." Eric's voice is all full of bravado, but Tami wonders what he would do if his father actually forbade him to see her completely. Eric may meet her over the fence, but he's serving out his punishment, and he isn't taking her to prom next week. She tries not to feel bitter about it. She's the one who got him in trouble, after all, and his scrupulousness is the same thing, maybe, that makes him treat her so well.

"Did he really rip into you about the scotch?" she asks. "After he walked me home?"

Eric shakes his head. "He never said anything more about any of it."

"Really?" Tami's mom wouldn't have let it alone for weeks, maybe months, if she'd found out, which was partly why Tami was terrified Mr. Taylor would tell her.

Tami doesn't like fighting with her mom, or being lectured to about morality, but at least Mrs. Hayes cares about more than her academic and sports performance. Tami has always hated the over-interest her mom takes in her personal life, but she can't imagine what it would be like to have a parent who takes no interest at all, who pretends you don't even have a girlfriend, who never even mentions her to you, except when he mistakenly thinks you're trying to take advantage of her. "You guys don't talk much, do you?"

Eric shrugs. "What's there to talk about? He's my dad."

(Julie will be eleven when Tami and Eric have a major argument over his standoffishness toward his daughter. Up until then, it will be easy for him to interact with Julie – he'll play and wrestle and joke and read to her and take her for ice cream, but as soon as soon as Julie starts having those pre-teen emotions and starts turning to him looking for something more than a playmate, he'll crawl into himself. As open and sometimes vulnerable as he can be with Tami, he won't be able to relate to his daughter. He'll keep his distance and avoid any conversation that's too personal. When Tami points out that this is not the kind of relationship Julie deserves with her father, he'll get defensive, slam the front door, and go for a long walk. Then he'll come back, apologize to Tami, and say, "But I don't know how. No one ever taught me how." He'll buy books, about "your tween girl" and "your soon to be teenage girl," and he'll read them in secret, and he'll make small efforts, step by step, little by little, and by the time Julie's a teenager, he'll be a lot better at the heart-to-hearts. They'll still secretly scare him, and he'll usually be concise, but he'll at least _have_ them. His daughter will know she is loved, that he cares about more than her grades and the quality of her chores.)

"Still think he has a lady?" Tami asks. Maybe Mr. Taylor decided not to meet with her that night he came home early and caught them. Maybe, it being the anniversary of his wife's death and all, he thought a tumble with his lover would be in poor taste. Or maybe there's no such thing as the mystery lady, and Eric just half hopes there is, because maybe if his dad wasn't so terribly lonely, he wouldn't make Eric feel so alone. There she goes again…psychoanalyzing. Tami doesn't know why she does it, but she can't help it sometimes.

"No," Eric says. "I found out he's bartending two, sometimes three, evenings a week for extra cash. Turns out he took out a second mortgage on the house a while back, and now he wants to start paying it off."

"What did he take it out for?"

Eric shrugs. "I don't know. I didn't even know he was bartending until Tom McMann told me he kicked him and some of the Cougars out of O'Toole's."

(Eric will learn from his father this trick of keeping secrets, this tendency to think he must handle things on his own, and this will be the source of their first major fight. About a year after they get married, when he's fired from his job as a personal trainer, he won't tell her. He'll start searching frantically for another position and keep making excuses about the paycheck being delayed, until she gets suspicious that he's spending the money on an affair with a pretty woman she's seen him chatting with at the gym, and she'll take off work early one day to show up unannounced at the trainer's office, only to be told he hasn't worked there for three weeks. Tami will make it clear that she won't stand for this sort of thing, that she expects to be treated as an equal partner, that he can't be afraid of her reaction to problems, that he has to trust her, that she deserves his trust, that she's there to lean on, not just to protect. And he'll get equally angry that she thought he was cheating on her, and tell her she's got to trust him too, that he'll never abandon her like her father did, or cheat on her like Mo did, that she has to let go of these fears, that however much he messes up, he'll _never_ commit adultery, and he'll _never_ leave. They'll learn to trust each other in the years to come. Tami will come to take his fidelity for granted, and when he has problems, Eric will reflexively turn to her as a counselor, a friend, and a wife. Their marriage will be immovable, though it won't always be perfect. There will be slips, like that one time, many years later, when Eric will write a check for the Lions uniforms and tell her it's for the dry cleaner, because he's ashamed of his failings as a coach. Soon enough, he'll come clean, and she'll be upset, but she'll also be compassionate, because she knows his heart and knows his fears, knows the wounds they've helped each other heal.)

Headlights shine in Tami's driveway. "Gotta go. Mom's home from Bible study. She can't see us talking this late. She'll suspect you're more than just a good neighbour. She's starting to like you, I think, but she still hates your dad, and if she find out we're dating," Tami draws a finger across her neck and makes a dramatic choking sound.

"Okay, fair Capulet," Eric jokes just before she turns away, "maybe someday our warring houses will be at peace." (Twenty years later he'll play dumb when a ninth-grade Julie starts making _Romeo and Juliet_ references. He'll take a secret pleasure in allowing his daughter to think him illiterate.)

Tami laughs and waves behind herself as she flies to the back stairs.


	9. Ready

**Chapter 9**

When rumor spreads that Eric is grounded, lots of guys ask Tami to the senior prom. Eric says she should go, preferably with Jimmy Miller, because everyone suspects he's gay. "But go with whoever you want. You've got that dress. You'll never get this chance again. Just don't…slow dance too much." She tells him she doesn't want to go if it's not with him.

Prom night, she throws on her sweats and curls up with a book and a bag of oreos in her bed, until she hears the pebbles at the window. When she pushes it open, Eric's standing in her back yard, wearing a suit and tie, and he looks unusually handsome. He looks older, too, like a man almost.

"Tami, Tami, wherefore art thou, Tami?" he calls up to her. "Deny thy mother and something something something – I don't know how it goes. Just get dressed and get down here!"

She laughs and slams the window shut. She dresses as fast as she can, creeps past her mother's closed bedroom door (they've missed the first hour and a half of prom, but at least Mrs. Hayes should be asleep by now), and scurries out the back door. He's looking at his watch when she gets down. He's bought her a beautiful, yellow corsage, which he's just lucky goes well with her shiny blue dress, because he hasn't seen it. If she'd been going out with Mark or Mo or any of the other guys she briefly dated, she'd probably have worn something far more revealing, but for Eric she's chosen a number that flatters her figure well without being immodest. He tries to pin the corsage on her but his fingers are trembling so much that he just keeps poking her. She seizes it from his hand and insists on doing it herself. "I don't want to be a pin cushion."

"Sorry, it's just…you're so beautiful in that."

When she's secured the corsage, she looks at him seriously. "You really don't mind risking it? What if your dad finds out?" She knows it's not that he's afraid of getting in trouble. He's going away to summer training at A&M in less than four months, after all. He's about to turn eighteen. But Eric, Tami thinks, desperately wants his dad to like him, to think well of him, to _approve_ of him. Mr. Taylor is the only family he's got.

"I don't care," Eric says. "Tonight's for you."

"Thanks, sugar."

"_Sugar_?"

"Well you're sweet."

He groans.

"Hey," she says, "Sweet is good. Sweet is _not_ the kiss of death. You've been sweet to me ever since I met you, and you've still had plenty of kisses from me, and I think they were all better than death."

He takes her hand in his. "That's right, baby. Death can't hold a candle to your kisses."

She laughs, but then she stops. "Wait. _Baby_? I don't know about that one."

Now he laughs and tugs on her hand. By the time they get to his truck, they're both giggling like…well, like the teenagers they still are, no matter how fast they've been forced to grow up. Before he can open the door, she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him and says, "I love you, Eric Taylor." She doesn't notice the gray smoke curling its way up behind his head, not right away, because she's looking into her date's twinkling eyes.

"You do?" Eric asks. "Really?"

He's smiling broader than she's ever seen him smile. She's wondering if he's going to say it back when Mr. Taylor's tight voice rises from behind him: "Eric."

Eric's eyes close slowly. He releases Tami and turns around to face his father, who, Tami now sees, is standing behind them in one of those classic men's dressing gowns she's only seen in Cary Grant movies.

(She and Shelley watch one of the old classics with their mom every Sunday night. They Hayes have a Betamax, and they were able to buy lots of tapes cheaply last year when Sony finally threw in the towel and switched to producing VHS recorders. Movie night is the one time they don't ever argue, the one time they all just sit and relax and laugh together, the one reliably fond memory she will maintain of her childhood. It's why family movie night will become so important to her once she and Eric have Julie, and why, one scheduled movie night, when Eric grumbles he has game tape to watch and Julie says she'd rather finish her book, Tami will leave father and daughter befuddled as she retreats weeping to her bedroom. She won't know how the discussion goes when she leaves them standing dumbfounded in the living room, but ten minutes later they will both come into the bedroom, crawl into the bed on either side of her, Eric with a remote control in his hand, and Julie with a bowl of popcorn, and Tami's twelve-year-old daughter will say, "His Girl Friday? What do you say, Mom?")

Mr. Taylor takes a slow drag of his cigar and blows the smoke out to his left. He studies Eric, who's just swallowed tightly. Finally, Mr. Taylor speaks. "Have a good time, son. And remember that just because it's prom night doesn't mean you should automatically expect anything of her. Treat her like a lady."

Eric's so stunned he can't seem to form words, but he finally stutters, "Yes..yes…sir."

Mr. Taylor glances at Tami, nods, and says only, "Ms. Hayes" before disappearing back inside the house.

Eric laughs nervously, mutters, "Holy…" and then opens the door of his pick-up for her.

It's a beautiful night, and Eric holds her so close when they dance that Tami never wants it to end, but she knows it will end. Graduation is almost here, and before long he'll go off to A&M for summer training, and a few weeks later she'll go off to a third tier college. She got into A&M, but she didn't get a scholarship, not with the way she trashed her GPA her freshman year, but with her SAT scores she did manage to get a full ride at Methodist Women's University, so MWU it is.

Mo and Mary Beth are crowned prom king and queen. Sarah McGuire says, "It should have been you guys" as she snaps Tami and Eric's picture for the yearbook. "You're such a cute couple."

"Keep that out of the yearbook," Tami says. "My mom doesn't know I'm here." Then she pauses. "But could you give me a copy later? Please?" They didn't have any eager parents snapping pictures in the foyer, the way Tami will do for Gracie years later, while Eric stands unsteadily behind her, more than a little terrified by his youngest daughter's beauty and by the knowledge that she is growing up.

When they get into Eric's truck together afterward, and he starts driving toward home, Tami thinks of the fact that in a little over three months, there will be four hundred Texas miles between them. She's heard about what college does to high school couples, and if she's going to lose him, she can't do it without knowing what it's like to love him with her whole body.

She puts a hand gently on his thigh and says, "I'm ready."

"For what?" he asks, still looking at the road.

"You know. To make this date _special_."

He looks down at her hand, and then over at her. "You mean we're not just on a date, but on a…_date_?"

She laughs at their mutual inability to be blunt. "Yeah," she says with a smile, "a _date,_" and he smiles too, his face flushing red in the lights reflecting from the car in front of them.


	10. Defensive Play

Eric grips the wheel tightly. "I…I didn't get a hotel room." Of course he didn't, and she's glad of that, glad he didn't simply assume. "I do have condoms though." He swallows. "I mean, I just…just in case, I always have them. I mean, not _always_, I mean, I got some a while ago…I mean, not too long ago, I mean I wasn't – "

She laughs. "It's okay. I'm glad you have them. But where are we going to…_date_? Our parents are both home, and I'm sure every place is booked." She glances back toward the bed of his pickup. She doesn't really like the idea of their first time being in the bed of a parked truck, but what are their options, really?

He follows her gaze in the review mirror. "I've still got my camping gear back there from the last trip." Eric goes camping with his dad three times a year. Tami can't imagine how awkward that silent pilgrimage must be. (When Julie is eight, Eric will start her off in a tent in the back yard, and she'll want to come in at midnight. When she's nine, he'll take her to the woods, and she'll want to come home at one in the morning. Finally, he'll buy a ping pong table, and say, "I guess this we'll be our thing instead.")

Eric reaches his hand down from the steering will and covers Tami's hand on his thigh. "I know this spot. It's pretty secluded. I don't think anyone would come across us there."

"I don't want to go to some spot where you and Kim – "

"No! I just found it one day when I went on a walk by myself, when I was camping with my dad. I've never taken anyone there. Ever."

"Okay," she agrees.

He takes her to the lake that stretches for miles and miles between Dillon and South Dillon. He comes to a stop in the grass, and asks, "It's romantic, yeah?" She looks out over the lightly rippling black water and nods, and he puts his pick-up in four wheel drive and goes even farther down, over crunching branches and through a lot of dirt, nearly scraping the sides of his truck between two trees, until they arrive in a partial clearing in the woods from which they can still see the lake. "You want the tent?" he asks when he turns off the engine. "Or just the sleeping bag?"

It's secluded enough that she opts for only the sleeping bag. She doesn't want to waste time setting up a tent. Outside the truck, he takes off his tie and coat and puts them in the back of the pick-up, draws out the sleeping bag and blanket and lays them out, and starts gathering stones to surround the fire. She offers to help him build it, but he tells her she shouldn't get her dress dirty.

"Set your watch alarm," she tells him. "In case we fall asleep after. I want to be home by four. My mom gets up for work at five."

He fiddles with the buttons on his digital watch and then, once he gets the fire going, he comes to her and kisses her. She turns around, raises her long hair, and asks him to unzip her dress. Her stomach is a knotted mess of fluttering. She wasn't this nervous the first time she had sex with Mo. She _was_ nervous when she had sex with Mark, but only because it was her very first time ever and she was afraid it would hurt. This is a completely different kind of nervous. When Eric's fingers fumble with her zipper, she can tell he's nervous too.

Somehow, he manages to get it down. She turns, reaches for the material covering her shoulders, and slides the dress to the ground. His breath catches and he swallows as he looks her over in the glow of the flickering fire. When he continues to stand frozen, just looking, she reaches behind herself and unhooks her bra and lets it join her dress in a crumpled pile. The starlight filters through the half canopy of trees above and casts a rare pattern on her chest. He reaches a hand out and traces every spot the light touches. When he presses his lips to her neck, she begins unbuttoning his shirt.

After they slide naked together beneath the blanket, they're all breath and sighs and murmurs until they're all moans and panting and then, finally, trembling that stills into tranquility.

When she awakes two hours later to a dead fire, she lies on her side staring at the ash and wondering if that's what's going to happen to them when he goes off to A&M and she goes off MWU. Then she feels his arm around her waist, and he whispers, "You know I love you, right?"

"I know." It doesn't mean he will a year from now, two, three, four. College is a long time, and he'll be six hours away, and there will be parties and plentiful opportunity, especially for a guy like him. He's better looking now than he was the first time he kissed her, that night Kim broke up with him. The acne's gone and he's filled out. He's loved and lost, had his rebound fling with Cindy, and moved on to Tami. He knows now that he can get over a break up and find someone else. What's to keep him from moving on? And when he does, a year from now, or maybe two, it's going to hurt even worse than it will at this moment. "I think we should break up," she says.

His mouth is pressed against the back of her neck when she says this and she can feel his lips slacken and cool. His watch alarm begins to beep. While he's fumbling to turn it off, she grabs her clothes from beside the sleeping bag, stands, and pulls them on.

"What?" he asks as her head comes through the top of her dress.

"I think we should break up," she repeats.

He sits up and reaches for his boxers and pants. "I don't…" he pulls on the boxers, "but we just…" he puts on the pants, "you _just_ let me_…" _he stands up, "_I…_" He buttons and zips himself and then just stands there before her, shaking his head.

She turns around and asks him to zip her up. He does, like a robot on autopilot. When the long rasp of the zipper ceases in the still night, he says, "You can't mean it."

"We're going to college, Eric." She keeps her back to him while she says it. "We'd only see each other on breaks. There'll be other people…" She shrugs.

"I don't understand."

Finally she turns around. "What's there to understand? Couples break up when they go away to college all the time."

"I thought you loved me!"

"I do. I'll get over it. It's for the best, Eric. I've made up my mind."

The breath that comes out of him now is the same sound he made when Mo punched him in the gut on their first date.

She half hopes he'll beg her to change her mind. Even Mo chased her down the hall and out into the school parking lot. Even Mo called her three times after she broke up with him. But Eric doesn't beg her. He pulls on his dress shoes silently and grabs up the sleeping bag and blanket. He doesn't roll them. He just throws them violently into the back of the truck. He doesn't say a word to her on the entire drive home. He parks in his own driveway and doesn't open the door for her as he usually does. He just slams his own and walks inside his house. After a few minutes of staring through the windshield dirtied from their off-road driving to the lake, Tami slides out of the pick-up and walks next door.

She doesn't start crying until she's in her own bedroom with the door closed. She must get loud, because Shelley, who's going into 8th grade next year, comes in her room and says, "Did that asshole break up with you? On PROM NIGHT?" Tami doesn't answer and Shelley says, "That's it. I'm egging his house. Right now." Tami makes an effort to stop her but Shelley's gone too soon. When she's dried her tears, Tami clatters down the back steps in the fading starlight that always precedes the glow of the sun rise. She sees Eric chasing Shelley out of his yard, the yolks dripping from the wood planks he just painted early this summer.

"Get out you, pest!" he's shouting. "You think it's funny to vanadalize other people's property? What the hell's wrong with you?"

When Shelley's scrambled over the fence and safely on the Hayes side, she glares at him. "That's what you get for dumping my sister, you jerk!"

He looks at Tami who's frozen in embarrassment just at the bottom of the steps.

"That's what you told her?" he says. "You've got some nerve! You know what? I was wrong. You don't deserve better than Mo. Hope you find a college boyfriend who screws you over just like he did. In fact, I'm going to make Mo my model. I'm going to hook up with two or three girls at a time at A&M, and when I get tired of one I'll just toss her aside. Because _that's_ the way to be. Those are the guys who win in the end."

"That's not you," Tami insists, loudly, and Shelley watches all this with confusion.

"Yeah, well, that's obviously been my main mistake in life. Being me. Damn well time to start being someone else."

He's in the house before Tami can even think to reply. She lies awake in bed the last hour of the night, her hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling. More than she hates the idea of losing him, more than she hates the idea of him moving on to another love, she hates the idea of him becoming someone else. Of him not being him. Not be being Eric Taylor. Because she loves Eric Taylor, more than she's ever loved anyone.


	11. Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can't Lose

The next morning, which is a Saturday, after her mother has shuffled off to her first shift at the bottle factory, Tami walks over to Eric's house. She has no idea what she's going to say. She only knows that whatever future pain she's prevented by breaking up with him can't be much worse than the pain she feels right now.

Mr. Taylor is up early, at the edge of the carport, rummaging in the trunk of his dark brown Buick. Eric's pick-up is not parked in the driveway behind it, as it was last night. She knows Eric doesn't have to be at the Whattaburger until ten. He gets there an hour before they open on Saturdays, since he's an assistant manager now. She asks, "Mr. Taylor? Where's Eric?"

He stands up, a cardboard box in his hands, and sets it on the driveway before closing his trunk. She sees it's full of books. She's peeked into Mr. Taylor's bedroom when she's passed down the hall in Eric's house to go to the bathroom. She knows the man's attached sitting room is filled floor-to-ceiling with built-in bookcases. It's strange, she thinks, given that around South Dillon he's mostly known for playing football in high school and college and then for a being a decent car salesman. (When she meets the gregarious Buddy Garrity years later, Tami will wonder how the taciturn Mr. Taylor ever managed to sell a single car.) He's certainly not known for being a scholar. She crept into his room once, for just a second, to scan the titles. It was almost all non-fiction: there were scores of biographies, books on business and finance, history and war, football and football players, but there was theology too, and philosophy, and things she would never expect the man to read.

He wipes his hands against one another, as if brushing off dust. "I don't know. I thought he was with you. He and his truck weren't here this morning when I woke up. I assumed you two were – " He stops short. "No. I don't know where he is. Should I be worried?"

Yes, she thinks, he should be. He should be worried about his son's heart, his happiness, his distance from his own father, and not so much about his test scores or his rating as a quarterback or the accuracy with which he mows the lawn. But of course she doesn't say any of this. She just says, "Maybe he just went to work early."

Mr. Taylor picks up his box. "It would be awfully early." He begins to limp toward the side door at the carport. He turns and leans against the wall to steady himself and looks at her curiously and probably notices for the first time the streaks on her face where the second wave of tears have recently dried. Mr. Taylor's jaw grows tense. "Did he…" He stops. She can tell he doesn't want to get involved, but apparently he also wants to know if his son has behaved himself. He looks down into the box of books and asks, "Did he somehow misuse you last night?"

"No! Absolutely not."

He's still looking at the books. "Why have you been crying then?"

"It's just…I broke up with him. Because college is coming and all and we'll be so far apart and that's what people do and…" She doesn't mean to rattle on like this, certainly not to Mr. Taylor, "…I think maybe I made a really, really big mistake."

"Ah," Mr. Taylor says and turns his back to her. It makes her angry, how little he cares. He's probably glad. Glad his son won't be hanging out with a bad influence like her anymore. She stands there, her arms defensively crossed over herself as he opens the door, drops the box on the floor inside, and kicks it inward with his good leg. He steps up and turns to close the door, but before he does, he leans out and says to her, "Sometimes, in the off season, when Eric's upset, he goes to the field and runs the bleachers." And the he closes the door.

She finds Eric exactly where his father says he'll be. The gate is locked, because it's only seven on a Saturday morning, but as she stands before the chain link fence, she can already hear his feet pounding angrily on the metal, though she can't see him from here. She looks around, wonders how he got in, and sees a break in the barbed wire. She scales the fence, walks around the bleachers, and awaits him just before the first row of seats. The banging slows as he notices her, and he goes from a run to a very slow walk, his hands on his hips, and his eyes clouded with some emotion she can't read, maybe because it isn't one emotion, but a dozen. The sweat drips from his olive green Cougars T-shirt, and his breaths come in deep gasps, the way they did last night, toward the very end, just before he shouted her name and the sound echoed in the clear night. When he gets to where she's leaning against the rail, he asks, after recovering his breath and clinching his teeth, "What do you want?"

"I want to rewind the tape," she says.

"What?"

"I want to rewind it. I want to take it all back. Everything I said at the lake. I want to run the play over again. But not with so much fear this time." He's looking at her like he's not sure what to think. "I don't want my mind clouded with fear," she goes on, "all the fears my Mom has tried to shove in there to keep me straight and narrow. All the fears my dad's leaving left me with… I don't want to do something stupid just because I'm afraid of losing you."

"You're not making any sense. If you're afraid of losing me, why would you break up with me?"

"Because I thought it would be easier now than later."

He takes a step down and puts his hand on the rail a foot away from her. "_This_ is easy?" he asks.

"No," she admits. "Just…easier? Maybe. I don't know. I thought it would be." He shakes his head. "So can we?" she asks. "Rewind?"

"I'm still a little pissed off at you. Especially for that egg thing."

"I didn't tell Shelley you broke up with me. Please," she puts a hand tentatively on his hip. "Let me run it all over again. With clear eyes this time, and a full heart and – "

"-Where do you get that? Clear eyes, full heart? That's weird talk."

"It's from a book my dad used to read me, when I was little." Before, one Tuesday afternoon, he simply ceased to be a father. "There was this king who was talking to one of his knights, this terrified, young knight, and he was trying to rally him for war, and he says -" She waves a hand. "Never mind. Just," she takes in a breath and says, "Here's what I want to say, with clear eyes, and a full heart –"

"- You can't lose me."

She blinks.

"Tami, you can't _lose_ me. You can throw me away, but you can't _lose_ me. I'm right here. I' not goin' anywhere. Except college. I won't cheat on you. I don't know what I've ever done to make you think I would."

"Nothing. _Nothing_…it's just, it's a long way, a long time, a lot of girls will want to be with you."

"_I_ want to be with _you_. If you're so worried, then come to A&M with me."

"I like A&M, but I didn't get a scholarship there. I have to go where the money goes. You know I don't have any."

He lets go of the railing, puts a hand around her waist, and draws her close. She doesn't care that he's dripping with sweat, or that her own clothes are getting wet when he kisses her cheek. But she pulls away when he says, "I'll help you with the tuition." He takes her hand and makes her sit next to him on the bleachers. "I've still got about a thousand socked away from Whattaburger. Plus my mom left me a few college savings bonds in my name when she died, but I've got a full ride, you know, room and board and everything, so you can have those too. All together that should be tuition for a year and a half. Three full semesters."

"I can't take money from you, Eric. Besides, there's _my_ room and board, and I have all that covered with my scholarship at – "

"- Then trust me when we're apart. Either come to A&M with me, let me help pay your tuition, or trust me when we're apart."

Tami takes in a deep breath and lowers her head.

"Tami?" he asks. "Which is it gonna be?"


	12. Saying Goodbye

**Chapter Twelve**

In the end, Tami decides to trust Eric and prepares to go to MWU. It's the financially wise decision, and, besides, she doesn't want to be the "jealous girlfriend type," even if she hasn't yet fully overcome her insecurities and developed the firm confidence she will have by her late-twenties.

When Eric is officially ungrounded (his father might have let him go to senior prom, but the quarterback had to serve out the rest of his sentence until graduation), he and Tami start dating once more. They continue to keep the relationship secret from Tami's mom. As far as Mrs. Hayes knows, Tami's spending one night a week at a teen Bible study, one night a week at a Young Life Meeting, and one night a week babysitting. They just happen to be the same nights Mr. Taylor works his second job.

Eric doesn't have to sneak around to go _out_ on dates, but some nights it's nice to stay _in_, and Eric has an empty house until midnight when his dad is tending bar. They keep Eric's bedroom door locked, just in case Mr. Taylor comes home unexpectedly early, as he does one night, coughing loudly and deliberately as he walks down the hall to his bedroom.

"Your dad knows I'm here, doesn't he?" she asks.

"Why would he?" Eric whispers back.

"Well, I think he knows…you know…that we do _it_ sometimes." _Sometimes_ being three times a week, every night Mr. Taylor is tending bar. As romantic as the lake was (before she ruined it by temporarily dumping him), Tami prefers Eric's bed for the long haul. There's no fear of snakes or bugs, and there's air conditioning. Texas summer nights can get quite hot, especially when you're…ehem…exercising. But it's not as though they spend all night in bed. Eric's gets off work from the Whattaburger at seven. He makes her dinner, or they order in. Sometimes they watch TV, or play Atari, or sit on the couch and drink soda (no more stealing Mr. Taylor's scotch) and talk. But they always end up in Eric's room. "He's announcing his presence so we don't…you know…embarrass ourselves."

"You think?"

"Yeah. Your dad's totally different than my mom."

(When it comes to his own eldest teenager having sex, Eric will be very unlike his father in some ways, but not at all unlike him in others. He'll hover protectively around Julie when she first starts dating Matt, but once he actually walks in on them, he'll fall immediately silent and never mention the subject to her. He'll leave the talking to Tami—though he'll warn her to think about what she's going to say ahead of time instead of just barging in there in the heat of the moment as her own mother would. Yet Eric will consciously ignore the fact with Julie, just as his own father did. He won't have to ignore it with Gracie—Gray, as she'll inexplicably insist on being called when she turns thirteen—because, despite appearing to be outwardly wild, with her pierced nose and pierced tongue and her late nights practicing electric guitar, she will declare herself "straight edge" and abstain from alcohol and sex until half way through college, when she'll suddenly take out the rings, take up voice lessons, put on a dress, and transfer to Julliard to pursue older men and a major in opera. It will be as difficult for Eric to go to her opera performances as it once was for him go to her hardcore punk performances, but he'll do both. "At least she didn't name her band something ridiculous like Crucifictorious," Tami will tell him when they first see her play in a club, just before Eric puts in those little orange ear plugs he uses when he goes shooting with his best friend. "At least I get to see you in a tux when we do this. It looks good with that silver hair," Tami will tell him the first night they go to see Grace—no longer Gray, but also never Grac_ie_-sing at the Met.)

In mid-July, when Eric is trimming the tall edges of grass around the front of the Hayes's house—one of the many things he does to butter up his secret girlfriend's mother-Tami brings him lemonade. When she returns to the house, Mrs. Hayes tells her, "I think that nice boy is sweet on you." Tami decides to take a risk and says, "Yeah, he asked me out this Saturday after work. Do you mind if I go?" Obviously she'll keep dating Eric regardless of what her mother says, but it would be nice to have things out in the open for a change.

"I suppose," Mrs. Hayes replies, "if you're home at a decent hour and he comes to the door like a gentleman to pick you up." Tami smiles. "And don't tempt him!" her mom says. "I don't want to catch you two going at it on the couch like I did you and Mo." Well, _some_ things still won't be out in the open.

Eric plays his role perfectly, and Mrs. Hayes hands her daughter over to him semi-willingly for the next three Saturdays. The night before Eric goes off to summer training, he and Tami sit on her back stairs and watch the sun set behind the fence, fading down in dripping red to the creek. Tami cries, even though she's promised herself she won't. "We'll have breaks together," he reminds her. "And you'll come to some of my games, right?"

"Everyone I can possibly get to," she promises him.

"I love you, you know."

She leans her head on his shoulder and watches the horizon as the last of the oozing orange disappears. He surrounds her with his arm. "I know," she says, but she's still a little scared of losing him.


	13. A Warning

A week after Eric's gone to training, and a week before she heads to MWU, Tami goes to check the mail. The Hayes have already eaten dinner and the sky is just beginning to darken. Mr. Taylor is rolling out the trash can. It doesn't look easy for him, with the limp, and she wonders how he'll fare without Eric around to do so much of the household work. How's he going to mow the lawn like that, for instance? She supposes he'll hire a neighborhood kid to do it. It hits her suddenly that the man is completely alone now. At least her mom will still have Shelley when Tami heads off next week.

"How's your mother?" Mr. Taylor asks her when he reaches the curb, and it's a surprise, because he's never asked after Dolly Hayes before. The only words Tami's ever seen her mom and Eric's dad exchange are squabbles over whose bushes are more obtrusive and who guests park too close to whose driveway along the curb.

"Uh…she's okay."

"I know Eric was…" he gestures toward the house, "mowing the lawn and all that."

"Well I took care of that before Eric did it, and Shelley will when I go off to college."

He nods, but before he can turn away, she asks, "You miss him?" She wonders if his real object in asking about her mom is merely to start a conversation that might include news of Eric. She doesn't imagine Eric and his dad talk much on the phone, though Eric's called her every day since he arrived for training at A&M. He hasn't settled into his permanent dorm room yet and so doesn't have his own phone hooked up, but the hall where the players are staying for training has a shared phone. He whispers his "I love you" just before he hangs up. (How different their daughters' worlds will be, with internet chat and smart phones and Skype and Facetime. Tami and Eric will get their first taste of e-mail in college, through university-provided accounts, though they won't have internet at home for some years after they graduate, because Eric won't see the point in paying monthly fees for dial-up. Tami will get her first cell phone the last year of college, a clunky plastic thing, which Eric will buy for her after her car breaks down one night on her way home from work and she has to walk three miles in the dark to the nearest call box.)

Mr. Taylor steadies himself against the trashcan. He says, "Eric's my son," as though that was answer enough.

"You talk to him lately?" she asks.

"Yes. He called to say he arrived."

A week ago, Tami thinks. A two-line conversation, probably. "Well," Tami tells Mr. Taylor, "he says training is a lot harder than he expected, but he's enjoying it. He likes the guys, most of them anyway, and he thinks he might have a chance for some serious play time later in the season. The stadium kind of awed him at first, but he's getting used to it. He says the running is the toughest part." Mr. Taylor doesn't interrupt her as she speaks. "He's been looking over the course catalog, and he's planning to double major in education and history, and then maybe he can teach and be a coach at the same school if things don't work out with the football. He wants a backup plan, in case he doesn't get draft– "

" - He should get drafted. He's good. As long as he doesn't…" Mr. Taylor points to his knee.

"Well, he's good, but he says at the college level, almost all of the guys are as good as him or - "

"- He's better," Mr. Taylor says. "Because he's got the heart. That's something you can't just teach."

Tami wants to say, "Why don't you tell _him_ that?" because she doesn't think he ever has. But she doesn't say it. She just nods, and Mr. Taylor says good day and heads back to his house, but he's checking the mail the next day, at the same time she is. "How's your sister?" he asks this time, but she suspects he's really asking, "How's Eric?"

When Eric calls later that evening, Tami asks him, "Why are you so charming?"

"I am?"

"You _can_ be. Very. But your dad…he's so stiff! So how did you turn out so charming? Was it your mom?"

"Maybe it was my dad _around_ my mom. When she was alive…I dunno….he was a different man around her."

"I miss you," she says, leaning against the kitchen countertop.

"Yeah." His voice gets low, a little husky. Tami's not sure if it's because he's trying not to be overheard by the other players waiting in line for the phone, or because it's thick with emotion. "I miss you too, baby. I can't wait to…see you again."

"I – " Her voice falls because her mom walks into the kitchen.

"What?" he asks.

Oh, to hell with it if her mom knows she loves him. She already knows they're dating. "I love you, sugar."

"You too, baby."

When Tami hangs up, Mrs. Hayes opens the refrigerator and takes out a lemon and some water. That's her nightly drink, like Tami's wine will be one day. As she's squirting the lemon into her glass, she says, "Tami, Eric's a nice boy. He treats you well. I can see that. But remember, you can only trust God."

"What does that mean?" Tami asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You'd do better to marry a career than to marry a man. Trust me, I know. I dropped out of college after my first semester to marry your father – "

"Who said anything about dropping out – "

" – and I stayed home to raise you girls. You can rely on the good Lord, and maybe you can rely on yourself, but don't put your trust in men. Make sure you have your degree and you put in at least six years at a career before you ever get married."

"Uh-huh. And of course I'm supposed to do all this while remaining sexually pure, right? Until I'm 27?"

Mrs. Hayes sips her lemon water deliberately. "It's not impossible, Tami, and there's no need to speak to me in that tone of voice."

Tami's surprised her mom doesn't just tell her to marry Jesus. Of course, convents are for Catholics, not fundamentalist Baptists. "Eric and I aren't even _thinking_ of marriage, mom," she insists.

Mrs. Hayes puts her glass down. "Tami, I just don't want you to make the same mistakes I made. Be careful of relying on a man. Even a good one."

Despite this warning, Tami will one day choose to stay home with Julie and allow Eric to be the sole provider for their family. Eric will be deeply touched by her decision because he will understand the absolute confidence it shows in him. It's a confidence that will take him years to earn (Tami's childhood wounds require patient tending), but once he does, it will be unshakeable.


	14. The Wonders of E-mail

_**Author's Note: **Fanfic net won't even let me use fake e-mail addresses in here…LOL. Thus the spacing._

**From: eric g taylor tamu . edu**  
**To: tammara c hayes mwu . edu**  
**Sent: September 24, 1990  
**

Yes your e-mail came through. This thing is kind of cool isn't it? We can write every day. Hope I don't have to wait twenty minutes for a computer tomorrow.

Thanks for driving all that way to support me at my last game. It was an awesome surprise. I didn't think you'd make it cause it was so far. I loved seeing you.

In answer to your question about that girl you sat next to in the bleachers, i don't know what Mary was talking about to her friend. I don't know why she said she expected to hook up with me at the party after the game. Why didn't you talk to me about in person that night if you were so worried about it? If she said I was flirting with her in our history class, that was totally her interpretation. I swear I wasn't. I was just being nice and asking if she was driving down for the game. I didn't give her any reason to think we were going to hook up later - at least not on purpose.

I wish you could make it to the next game, but i understand it's too expensive to fly and there's no way you're driving that. We've got a home game after that though so I hope you'll drive down. I've already told my roommate he needs to get lost that Saturday night. Can't wait.

Love you,

Eric

PS – you need to get that car checked out. I didn't like that rattling. I'll pay for any repairs if you need me to. You're driving a lot. I don't want you to get stranded somewhere.

******From: eric g taylor tamu . edu**  
**To: tammara c hayes mwu . edu**  
Sent: October 1, 1990  


We totally blew that last game. Probably because I didn't have any of my good luck charms. I couldn't find my St. Christopher's medal my dad gave me. Turns out it fell off behind my dresser. I've got it now. But i didn't have you there either. I missed you baby! Sorry i didn't call after the game. We went straight to the after party and I got a little drunk. You know I'm not used to drinking a lot. One of the guys had to take me back to the hotel and then I just kind of passed out. They woke me up and it was time to go to the airport. I tried calling when I got in, but you didn't answer. Call me!

In answer to your question, yes, Mary and some of her friends drove down for the game and she was at the party afterwards but NO I did NOT flirt with her. We talked a little because I can't just not talk to her if she talks to me. That would be rude. She knows I'm totally serious about you though.

Can't wait to see you next Saturday. Bucky's going to crash in another guy's room so we'll have the room to ourselves. He's cool about it.

Love you lots,

Eric

******From: eric g taylor tamu . edu**  
**To: tammara c hayes mwu . edu**  
Sent: October 6, 1990  


I told you to get that damn car fixed! You could have made it to my game yesterday if you'd of just listened to me. Seriously. Get it fixed. I'll pay for it. I miss you. I'm horny as hell to be honest. If you must know.

Come to the game next weekend. Take the bus if you have to. It's only two hours from MWU. They've got us three to a hotel room, so I'll reserve another one just for you and me. We don't have to go to the after party. I don't want to. I just want to be with you.

Lots of love,

Eric

******From: eric g taylor tamu . edu**  
**To: tammara c hayes mwu . edu**.  
Sent: October 7, 1990  


Stop asking about Mary. NOTHING is going on there. It's really starting to annoy me the way you keep asking if I talked to her after class if we were at this or that party together. Sometimes I feel like I might as well just hook up with her because it doesn't matter what I say anyway.

******From: eric g taylor tamu . edu**  
**To: tammara c hayes mwu . edu**  
**Sent: October 8, 1990  
**

I didn't mean it! I'm not going to hook up with her just because I'm pissed you're acting like a jealous girlfriend. I was just trying to make a point that if you're not going to trust me, what's the point? You know, this isn't going to work if you can't trust me. Girls liked me in high school too and did i ever once cheat on you? Even though you made me wait for months before we did it? I didn't cheat. Not once.

Eric

******From: eric g taylor tamu . edu**  
**To: tammara c hayes mwu . edu**  
Sent: October 9, 1990  


I was fine with waiting! You were worth it and i wanted you to know I was serious. I don't think you were a being a tease. Jesus! Did I say that? That's not what I said. I didn't even suggest it. I just said that about waiting because I wanted to remind you that I can be patient. I can go without you know. I can wait for you. I don't have to hook up with some girl just to hook up with some girl. I want YOU. This is hard, being apart. I miss you like crazy. You're not exactly making it easier, you know.

Eric

******From: eric g taylor tamu . edu**  
**To: tammara c hayes mwu . edu**  
Sent: October 10, 1990  


Thanks for the apology. I'm sorry too that I got so upset in my last e-mail. I know you're not used to guys sticking around, with your dad taking off and Mark dumping you like the jerk he is and Mo cheating on you like the jerk he is. But I'm not your dad, and I'm not Mark, and I'm not Mo. I'm not a jerk.

No, I'm not still mad at you. I'll call you later tonight.

I love you.

******From: eric g taylor tamu . edu**  
**To: tammara c hayes mwu . edu  
****Sent: October 11, 1990  
**

Great talking to you last night. I'm glad we got all that worked out. You know I can't wait to see you either. I got us a room at the Budget Inn. Sorry it's not the Ritz, but I figure I can use the money to take you out to a nice lunch Sunday before you head back. Besides, I need to save money for gas because when football season's over I'm driving to see you every single weekend. I don't like you doing all that driving by yourself. Can't you get another girl to go with you? I guess they don't want to drive four hours for my games, but there's plenty of players they could crash with I'm sure. If they're into that sort of random hook-up thing. I'm not. I just want you, you know. Love you so much, baby. I can't wait.

Lots of love,

Eric

******From: eric g taylor tamu . edu**  
**To: tammara c hayes mwu . edu**  
Sent: October 14, 1990  


Glad you made it back to school safely. Me too. Thank you for the best weekend of my life. Damn I'm still thinking about it. How long do we have to wait to do that again? You ever think about transferring to A&M next semester?

Yours – all yours – anytime you want me,

Eric

******From: eric g taylor tamu . edu**  
**To: tammara c hayes mwu . edu**  
Sent: November 26, 1990  


Great seeing you this weekend. I'm glad we got to play Friday instead of Saturday so I had more time with you, but I wished we'd of played Thanksgiving instead. Anyway – NEW BEST WEEEKED OF MY LIFE. That thing you did - can you do it again next time we see each other? Only if you want of course.

You think anymore about transferring to A&M next semester? I've got those college savings bonds. Haven't cashed them in yet. Three semesters they'd cover. I'd transfer to MWU for you but somehow I don't think an all-woman's university would take me. Besides, they don't have a football team.

******From: eric g taylor tamu . edu**  
**To: tammara c hayes mwu . edu**  
Sent: December 11, 1990  


You don't have to apologize every time you miss a game, baby. I really don't expect you to drive to the ones that are more than six hours away from you. I don't want you doing all that driving alone and I know you had that Pysch 101 exam Monday. I bet you aced it. You're so good at that reading people stuff sometimes it's a little eerie. (I'm kidding.)

Guess who did come all the way out for my game last weekend? My dad. He took off work and everything. He even just said "Good game after" instead of dissecting every play. I think that's the first time he's ever done that after a game. Well, he did point out one thing I did wrong, but he was right about that. You probably saw how I messed up when you watched it on TV, didn't you? At least i finally got some play time.

You're flying out to California for the Holiday Bowl, right? I know you've been saving up for the plane ticket. You HAVE to come because we are so going to mop the field with the Cougars. Can't believe I'm playing a team with the same name as my high school team! Why don't we stay on after until winter break is over? Spend the rest of vacation together on the beach? Bet it won't be crowded in late December, huh? I'll have to wipe out the last of my savings account to get a hotel but please say yes. I'll get a job next semester. I just can't work during football season. It's so much harder than high school. I barely have time to study.

Now, this Calculus tutor you mention, he's a grad student at Texas Brethren? So, what, is he married?

******From: eric g taylor tamu . edu**  
**To: tammara c hayes mwu . edu**  
Sent: December 12, 1990  


Well good to hear you don't like the blond haired blue eyed guys who look like Greek gods. You're exaggerating, right? Your tutor's short and sixty pounds overweight, right? Call me tonight. I'll be home from practice by 7.

You're welcome for the love letter. I knew you'd like something handwritten. I'll try to send more letters. I know email doesn't cut it for you. Me either. I love your letters. Especially the sexy ones.

You'll be glad to know Mary has a serious boyfriend. He gave her a promise ring. I'd never heard of that. Bucky says it's like a pre-engagement ring. I promise to ask you marry me one day or something. How stupid is that? What's up with that? Promise ring. Bucky and I had a good laugh over that one.

******From: eric g taylor tamu . edu**  
**To: tammara c hayes mwu . edu**  
December 13, 1990

I know you haven't asked about Mary in a long time. I was just reassuring you anyway. Just because you're not asking doesn't mean you aren't worrying.

And, no, I didn't realize promise rings are a symbol that you promise to stay faithful while you're dating. Sorry I called them stupid. Geez. Didn't know you'd rise to their defense. Still, I don't see why a person needs a ring to say that. A guy's word should be good enough, right? Unless he's the kind of guy who's word isn't good enough, and then a ring doesn't mean anything either.

So your tutor is NOT short and fat, but tall AND lean. "Very lean." You had slip that VERY in there, huh? Good thing you like stocky, dark haired guys best, right? Gerald you say? That's his name? GERALD? Guess I don't have to worry then. No one sexy is ever named Gerald. Besides, we've got a few days together over winter break – and trust me – I'm going to spend every one of them making you completely forget about Gerald.

Good luck on your Calculus exam. You better ace it. Because if you get anything less than an A, I'm going to be suspicious about Gerald's tutoring skills.

All yours,

Eric


	15. Promise

**Chapter Sixteen**

Eric and Tami spend four glorious days together in San Diego after the Aggies slaughter the Cougars 65-14 in the Holiday Bowl. The couple has spent too much time apart, and they're both hungry every night they share. The love making is more passionatethan it ever will be again, but there will still be times over the years when it's better. Tami will tell Eric, on her forty-fifth birthday, when they're lying comfortably naked in each other's arms, as though they've been molded by the time to fit one another precisely, "I never thought sex could be better in my forties than in my twenties," and he'll kiss her shoulder, and he'll say, "Well, I've had a lot of practice by now, and you're a damn good coach."

But now they're young, and agile, and a little starved, and well aware that when school starts again, they'll only see each other on weekends, and not every weekend. They spend half their time on the beach and half in bed. Tami tells her mother she's gone back to MWU, that she needs to study to prep for next semester, but that her phone is out of order, so don't try calling. Eric tells his father nothing about where he is or who he's with, because his father asks nothing.

Their last night, when they're sitting on the shore side by side, Eric's arm wrapped around Tami's waist and her head on his shoulder, she says, "You should have gotten MVP instead of Bucky."

Eric laughs. "Bucky's a hundred times better than I am. I'm beginning to think it's good I have a backup plan. I doubt I'm getting drafted."

"You might."

He looks at her, and in the moon and starlight that teases the black ocean with splashes of color, she can't quite read his eyes. "Will you be disappointed if I don't?" he asks, and he sounds a little scared.

"Me?" She pulls away and reaches her hand out to bury her fingers in his hair and toy with the thick threads. "Eric, I don't care what you do for a living. But if you don't do something that has to do with football, I don't think you'll be happy. You could be a player, or a coach, or a sports agent, or -"

"- But you don't care if I'm not a player? If I can't manage to go pro, no matter how hard I try?"

"Why would I? All those cheerleaders. All those fans. And football players travel a lot. Hell, it'll be easier for me if you don't. I mean, assuming we're still together by then."

"You think we won't be?" he asks.

"I hope we will be." It's the most honest answer she can give him.

He sighs and looks away from her out into the water. "If I don't go pro, my dad's gonna think I'm a failure." He moves his head, just a tiny bit, to look at her. "But you won't?"

She doesn't think his dad thinks that, but what good will it be for her to tell him that if Mr. Taylor won't? She kisses his cheek. "You're going to be great at whatever you end up doing. You've got a great voice. Deep. You'd make a great sports announcer." She tickles him and he smiles and then chuckles and tells her to cut it out. "And the way you worked with the Cougars new quarterback before you left for A&M?"

"Andy," he says.

"Andy, yeah. The way you helped him out and gave him some confidence. That guy was terrified. You'd make a really good coach."

He turns to her and smiles and they kiss deeply. When he pulls away he says, "I have something for you." He works the state ring he got as a South Dillon Cougar loose from his finger and hands it to her.

She takes it from his hand and turns it over in hers. "This is your _state_ ring," she says with surprise. "Why are you giving this to me?"

"Because I trust you with it. I know it's not pretty like a promise ring, but…." He shrugs. "I thought…I don't know. It means more to me. So I thought it would mean more to give it to you."

"I thought you thought promise rings were stupid."

"It's a state ring," he says.

She smiles and slides it on her finger. It's way too big. She'll end up wearing it around her neck on a chain.

"You know I'm not going to cheat on you as long as you have that. Because if I did, you might just chuck it in the lake when you break up with me."

She nods, a broad grin on her face. "And you wouldn't risk losing your state ring."

He tilts her chin up so she's forced to look at him. "Tami, I wouldn't risk losing _you_. Don't you know your worth a thousand times more than a ring? I want to find every guy who ever told you that you weren't and beat the living shit out of him."

She laughs, looks down at the ring, then back at him. "I think that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me," and he laughs too, and soon they're kissing and rolling in the sand, until their standing and running, hand in hand, back to the hotel.

**From: tammara. c. hayes mwu .edu  
To: eric. g. taylor tamu . edu  
Sent: February 13, 1991 7:45 AM**

Just checked my mail and got your package. The chain's beautiful. What a sweet gift. It looks great with the ring. Yes, I promise I'll wear it every time I meet Gerald for tutoring. He's helping me with Statistics now. I promise I won't even tuck the ring inside my shirt when he shows up wearing that super-tight polo that shows off all his muscles.

**From: tammara. c. hayes mwu .edu  
To: eric. g. taylor tamu . edu  
Sent: February 14, 1991 7:51 AM**

Because you're sort of cute when you're jealous, that's why. But I'm not cute when I'm jealous, apparently. I just annoy you. So I get to rile you up and you don't get to rile me up. Make sense?

Besides, I haven't been the least bit jealous lately. I didn't even ASK about that cheerleader who ran up to you after the Holiday Bowl and hugged you. I just said to myself, hey, he can't help it if he played well and he happens to be incredibly good-looking and she happens to be idiot enough to think she stands a chance. I mean, sure, he could have pulled her off a lot SOONER, but, hey, I'm all about giving a guy the benefit of the doubt.

But since we're on the subject, who WAS that cheerleader? Is she in any of your classes? I only ask out of mild curiosity, you understand.

**From: tammara. c. hayes mwu .edu  
To: eric. g. taylor tamu . edu  
Sent: February 14, 1991 6:05 PM**

Barbie? You're totally making that up. That is NOT her name.

No, you don't have to get my name tattooed across your chest. Besides, when do you expect Barbie's going to see your chest?

Well, I'd write more but I have to run by the dorm and then get to my tutoring session with Gerald. I guess he doesn't have a girlfriend to go out with on Valentine's Day.

**From: tammara. c. hayes mwu .edu  
To: eric. g. taylor tamu . edu  
Sent: February 15, 1991 9:55 AM**

Thanks for your call last night, sugar, even though I know you're trying to cut back on long distance charges and even if it did make me miss my tutoring session. I guess it's lucky for you it did because Statistics can get really sexy really fast.

The reason I didn't send you a Valentine's present is that since you're driving up this weekend, I plan to give you your special gift in person. ; ) – That's supposed to be a wink. Does it look like one? This is supposed to be a smily : ) and a frown : ( You can make all sorts of faces with the punctuations keys. Try it. Nevermind. I know you won't, Mr. Cool.

**From: tammara. c. hayes mwu .edu  
To: eric. g. taylor tamu . edu  
Sent: February 15, 1991 3:55 PM**

How long did it take you to figure out how to construct a phallus using only punctuation marks?

**From: tammara. c. hayes mwu .edu  
To: eric. g. taylor tamu . edu  
Sent: February 15, 1991 8:55 PM**

Yes, I do call it a phallus now. Don't you know I'm a COLLEGE girl? Don't worry, though, I won't use any Latin when I talk dirty to you tomorrow night.

**From: tammara. c. hayes mwu .edu  
To: eric. g. taylor tamu . edu  
Sent: February 19, 1991 4:50 PM**

So, yeah, I don't think I can sneak you into my dorm room to spend the night anymore. This isn't A&M. It's still technically a Christian school. I'm not getting suspended, but I do have to write some kind of letter of apology for breaking the rules and do some community service or something. Great! Because I have so much time to give away for free! It's not like I'm trying to get a 4.0 so I can get a scholarship and be near my boyfriend, or like I'm working so we can see each other on weekends or anything!

So here's the deal. I need to drive to see you when we get together. We obviously can't be together at MWU. You can pay for the gas and meals on weekends, and I'll drive to A&M when I can. Fair?

**From: tammara. c. hayes mwu .edu  
To: eric. g. taylor tamu . edu  
Sent: March 15, 1991 11:55 AM**

So I just talked to my advisor and she says I'd have a much better chance of getting a full scholarship if I don't transfer to A&M at the end of this year but wait until the end of my sophomore year and finish out two years in a row with a 4.0. So that's what I'm going to do. Sorry, sugar. I want to be at the same school with you too. Can you hang in one more year? At least we have the whole summer together. When we're not working.

**From: tammara. c. hayes mwu .edu  
To: eric. g. taylor tamu . edu  
Sent: September 6, 1991**

I wish the summer had never ended. I'm still bummed I missed your first game. I wish I could afford to fly to see the games that are really far away. I watched it on TV though. Sorry you didn't win, but played great though. Your dad says you have heart. He ever tell you that?

**From: tammara.  
To: eric.  
Sent: October 7, 1991**

No, I can't just transfer in the spring and just take those college savings bonds from you. I don't want to be indebted to you like that. I appreciate how generous you are though, sugar. And I will reward you for your sweetness. ;)

**From: tammara.  
To: eric.  
Sent: December 16, 1991**

Sorry I couldn't make your game this weekend because of that RIDICULOUS air fare. I couldn't even watch it this time, because while you were playing, I had to drive home to South Dillon. You know Shelley has that new boyfriend I told you about, and Saturday morning she calls me and leaves me this message that she's thinking of doing it with him. My fifteen-year-old sister! She's fifteen! So I got in the car right away and drove home and spent the rest of Saturday and half of Sunday trying to talk some sense in her. Even I wasn't that young, and you know I have regrets about my first time. I think she's going to do the smart thing. I hope. Can't wait to see you over winter break. I can't believe they're paying you $8.00 an hour at the Whattaburger now! I'll get $4.50 at the Clippery this summer – ooh! A 25 cent raise! But I bet I can beat you with tips.

**From: tammara .c. hayes mwu . edu  
To: eric .g. taylor tamu . edu  
Sent: April 1, 1992 10:05 AM**

I don't know if you'll check e-mail or your phone messages first, so I'm doing both. CALL ME ASAP! Please. I need to talk to you. Shelley's pregnant.

**From: tammara .c. hayes mwu . edu  
To: eric .g. taylor tamu . edu  
Sent: April 1, 1992 10:35 AM**

NEVER MIND! False alarm. I forgot it was April fool's day. Bitch. I'm tempted to skip classes Thursday just to drive home to beat her.

**From: tammara .c. hayes mwu . edu  
To: eric .g. taylor tamu . edu  
Sent: April 2, 1992 9:55 AM**

Shit! Shelley's joke yesterday made me realize I'm almost two weeks late. I've been so busy I just haven't thought about it. It might not mean anything. I hear it happens, it's just I've never been late since I got on the pill, and then I was on that antibiotic just before we hooked up the last time. They say that can effect it. Shit! I left a message on your answering machine too. Call me as soon as you get this.


	16. Tests

It's noon when Eric calls. The first words out of his mouth are, "This better not be an April fool's joke."

"It's April 2nd."

"You didn't tell me anything about the antibiotic possibly affecting anything." His voice is tight. He sounds almost angry.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just…the doctor barely mentioned it, and it had been so long since we saw each other, and I - "

"- Have you taken a pregnancy test?"

"No. I just got back from the student pharmacy. I bought a couple, but I haven't taken one yet. I will. Right away. I - "

"- No. Don't take it yet. You shouldn't have to do that alone. I'm leaving right now. I'm skipping my last class today and the one tomorrow. I'll be there by six this evening."

"Eric, you don't have – "

"- I'll be there by six. Wait for me."

When he gets to her dorm, it's 5:35. She hasn't eaten lunch or dinner, and by the speed with which he got here, she suspects he hasn't either.

Tami's roommate Donna takes one look at Eric, his hair all wild, his eyes wide, and says, "I'm going to the library to study. When can I be back? Are you going to keep him after curfew?" Like he's a puppy.

Tami doesn't want any more marks on her record. "No," she says. "We'll be gone by curfew."

In fact, they leave just ten minutes later, after Tami packs an overnight bag. They check into an inexpensive motel, where Tami disappears into the bathroom and Eric waits, sitting on the edge of the brown and gold comforter that lines the bed. He hasn't said a word to her since he arrived, other than to suggest the privacy of a motel. The dorm bathroom isn't going to cut it.

She comes out with the test and sets it on the nightstand and sits down next to him. Their bodies don't touch, even though they're mere inches apart. She begins cracking her knuckles. She isn't ready for a baby. She isn't even ready for marriage. She's dismissed most of her mother's advice, but she has every intention of getting her B.A. before she considers marriage, not that Eric's hinted yet. She thinks maybe after proposing to Kim and getting burned, he's not in any hurry to get married anymore. Tami figured that _after_ they graduated, he _might_ start talking about it, and then, if they _did_ end up married, she'd work five or six years before they had kids.

"How long do we wait?" he asks.

"Not long," she says. She wonders what he'll say if the test is positive. She wonders what _she'll_ say, what she'll do. The tears flow down her cheeks. "I should have thought about the antibiotic. I'm so – "

"Shhh!" he commands, and puts his arm around her waist and kisses the top of her head. "I'm here."

She leans against him, _on_ him, because he's right. He's here. His muscles are tense, and there's a tremble of anxiety in his jaw, but he's _here_.

It comes out negative, which she can see through the wet haze in her eyes. She's too numb to quite feel anything at the moment. "False negatives are more common than false positives," she tells him. "I bought another test."

"Take it."

It, too, comes out negative. "I guess I better go to the doctor and see why I'm late." She stands slowly and disappears into the bathroom to take a shower. Her tears mingle with the hot, uneven spray. She thinks they're tears of relief, but maybe they're also tears of fear, because why then is she late? When she comes out in her MWU T-shirts and sweats, he's under the covers in his boxers. It's only 6:30 p.m., but she doesn't mention how early it is. Her stomach growls but she doesn't feel like eating. Apparently neither does he.

She crawls in next to him and he holds her and kisses her tenderly. He tells her he loves her, that he's here. They kiss some more, and then they just lie together in each other's arms. At some point, they fall asleep. She awakes in the middle of the night, goes to the bathroom, and is relieved by the sight of blood. When she returns to the bed, she shakes him awake, "It's okay. It's okay. My period started. I was just late. It happens sometimes, it just doesn't usually to me, so I thought maybe…but I'm definitely not pregnant."

"Thank God!" The words come out like a sigh. "I mean," he says, "I'd of been there, you know. No matter what."

She believes him. Almost. "Thank you for coming. I'm sorry I didn't just take the test on my own instead of telling you I was late. I got you all worked up. It was such a waste of your time, to come all the - "

"- You're never a waste of my time, Tami. I love you."

She doesn't ask him what he would have wanted to do if it was positive. It's enough, right now, that he's here, by her side, that he drove six hours straight the moment he found out, that she's in his arms, that he isn't going anywhere tonight, or tomorrow morning either.

His stomach growls, an angry demand. "Let's order pizza," he says.

"No one delivers at two in the morning."

"I'll go the 7-11 and get us something."

He comes back with two lukewarm hot dogs, a bag of Doritos, a couple of bottles of root beer, and a giant Kit Kat the size of two candy bars. She takes one bite of the hot dog and feels suddenly nauseous. She goes to the bathroom but doesn't throw up, and she's ravenous, so she ends up eating the two-thirds of the mega Kit Kat and drinking half the soda. He eats both hot dogs. They watch TV for an hour, but there's not much on, and eventually they turn it off and drift back to sleep.

He wakes before she does and goes to get them coffee. She feels tired – has felt tired for three weeks, now that she thinks of it. She wants the caffeine, but the thought of coffee makes her nauseous. She has a glass of water instead. When she goes to the bathroom later, she sees that the bleeding has stopped.

He was so relieved last night that she's afraid to tell him. When she does, as he sits in the little chair by the three-foot wide table, his cup of coffee freezes on the way to his mouth. He sets the cup down. "So what does that mean?"

"I have no idea. I'll have to see the doctor. I'll see if I can get in this morning."

Eric insists on going with her. He's the only guy in the waiting room of the MWU student health building. How many other girls are here, Tami wonders, for the same reason as her, but without a boyfriend to support them? Suddenly grateful, she reaches out and takes Eric's hand and squeezes it. He squeezes back.

With his free hand, he digs through the women's magazines on the end table until he finds something that's not gender specific – a _Reader's Digest_. He opens it, but Tami doesn't think he's reading. He squeezes her hand again and lets go of it when she's called, and when she returns forty minutes later, he still has the magazine open to the same page. He looks up from where he's been staring blankly at the words and asks his question with his eyes.

"Let's talk in your truck," she says.

When she's sitting in the passenger's seat, she stares at the side view mirror to avoid looking at him. "I'm pregnant. Spotting happens sometimes. I didn't have a miscarriage though. It was just some spotting. I thought it was my period, but it wasn't. My levels were low or something, so the first two tests didn't pick it up, but the doctor says I'm definitely pregnant."

He closes his eyes and then puts his face is in his hands and she thinks, _My life is over, it's over, and I'm only twenty._


	17. Choices

Eric doesn't say anything. He just starts the engine and begins driving. Tami looks at him and can see the gears turning behind his eyes. He parks in a secluded spot by the campus lake and turns off the car. She wants him to say something, anything. _Just speak!_ But he doesn't. His wrist is resting on the steering wheel and he's starring off at the water.

"I'll get an abortion," she says slowly. "You can pay for half." She's not positive this is what she wants, but she's terrified by the thought of having a child at the age of twenty, and she can't see any other way out of the pit her mother has long preached she should never dig for herself. She thinks these words will relieve Eric, but he only looks startled.

"What?" He turns his eyes to her.

"We're young. We're still in college. We're sophomores. We don't make much. You've got football. I'm not ready for this. _You're_ not ready for this. We're not in any position – "

"No," he says, and his voice is strange in her ears. He sounds just like his father, that decisive, tight, concise, commanding tone. "No. You aren't aborting it."

"Is this because you're Catholic?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "I haven't been to mass since Christmas Eve. It's not about some doctrine. I got you pregnant. With my child. _My_ child. Don't I get a say?"

"What do you suggest?"

"Suggest?" A short, sharp breath of disbelief escapes him. "We get married and have the baby of course."

"_Of course?_ Just like that? We get married just because you knocked me up?"

"You're aware I love you, right?" he asks.

"I'm aware."

"Well, what more reason do you need? I love you and you're pregnant."

"We can't start a marriage that way."

It's what her own mother did - marrying her father because she was pregnant with Tami. Tami found out when she was seventeen. Her mother had given her a false date for the wedding, but Tami found the buried album one day, during spring cleaning, the photo of the invitation, the date – five months before she was born. She confronted her mother, called her a hypocrite for all her lectures about staying pure and not letting a guy have his way with her. Her mother said, "I just want you to learn sooner what I learned too late."

Tami heard, "You were a mistake." She said, coolly, "So you never wanted me."

"That's not what I said!" Her mother lowered her voice. "You and Shelley are all I have anymore. I love you girls. I want to protect you. I just want…it would have been better, for all of us, you and Shelley and me, if I had had you later. That's all. Don't ever trap yourself, Tami."

Her mother, of course, would be mortified if she knew Tami was even considering abortion. Tami had been told time and time again that she was supposed to avoid every emotional and physical pitfall with abstinence. Apparently she was supposed to be purer and stronger than her mother, she was supposed to escape the consequences of her mother's past sins through her own virtue. Mrs. Hayes had come to think that if only she herself had been a better Christian, her own life wouldn't be such a struggle – a struggle to raise two daughters alone on a working class salary. Two jobs. Constant rebellion from her daughters. The price of her sins. And her penance was to try to hammer the law into the hearts of her daughters (as though it could be pinned there by force when it could only be planted tenderly with seeds), to immerse herself in Bible study, and to choose the second strictest church she could find in South Dillon. (The strictest was a little too severe even for Tami's mom.)

Years later, Tami will better understand her mother, better understand what it's like to pray your daughter doesn't make the same mistakes you did. When she first realizes her fifteen-year-old girl is considering sex, Tami will warn Julie how treating sex casually – like she herself did with every boy until Eric – can jade you, make you cynical. She'll try to make Julie understand it's not just one body part going into another. Tami won't want to lecture like her mother, but the conversation won't unfold in the calm, thoughtful way she originally planned either. Emotion will get the better of her. But unlike her mom, Tami will strive to keep the doorways of communication open with her daughter, and that effort will at least partially pay off. Julie won't lose her virginity before she's in love, before she's ready, which is more than Tami did. Julie won't rush into it. And when her daughter finally does have sex, Tami will be honest with her and admit she wishes Julie had waited even longer, but she won't condemn her, and she'll be available to talk.

"It's a bad way to start a marriage," Tami tells Eric. "And marriage is a huge deal to me. I'm only twenty. I'm not ready for my life to be over."

He looks down at hands that now grip the steering wheel. "And you think marrying me is like ending your life?"

"No! No that's not what I mean. I mean…a baby…I don't want..." She doesn't want to end up like her mom, dependent and bitter, making it too easy for her husband to leave because the marriage never had a firmer foundation than an accident. She doesn't want Eric to end up like his dad, always more intent on doing his duty than on experiencing love. But how does she explain all that? "I want my degree first," she says.

"You can get your degree eventually. We just - "

"- I'm twenty, Eric! You're nineteen!" Any other guy she's ever dated would have just given her the money. Any other guy would have been happy she wanted to take the easy way out. She starts crying.

He holds her until her sobs have steadied. "It's not the end of the world," he says, stroking her hair. "When it's due?"

"November."

She sees the gears turning again in his mind. "We can get married in May right after exams," he says, letting his arms slide from her and leaning back against the door to look her in the eyes. "We can live with my dad over the summer. He won't like it, but he won't kick us out. My scholarship will cover family housing at A&M. You can take two years off college and then – "

"- You'll be in the middle of football season when it's due."

"Don't worry. I'll be there for the birth. I might miss a couple of practices or even a game, but Coach will understand. He won't kick me off the team. He says he really likes my ideas. He's been plain with me. I'm not a good enough player, and I'm not getting drafted, whatever my dad may hope, but I've got good ideas. I have to accept that the best I can do is become a coach. I know I'll have to teach to make a living, at least for a good while. I'll teach P.E. I won't major in history after all. I'll switch to phys ed instead so I don't have to spend so much time studying. That way I can work more hours while I'm still in school to support you and the baby. You take the next two years off with the baby. After I graduate and get a full-time job, we can afford day care, and you can re-start college." He takes a deep breath and looks at her. "A'ight? Good plan, right?"

"I don't want to get married as part of a _plan_."

"Tami, what _do_ you want?"

"I want…I want…to not have gotten pregnant."

"But you did. We can do this."

Why isn't he more scared? Or if he is, why isn't he showing it? Is that the lesson of his father – never show your weakness, never show your doubts, never show your need? Act – perform – solve, but don't dwell on your loneliness or fear. Don't even admit it exists. Or is it just easier for Eric than it will be for her? Less life changing? Less risky? "Eric, I don't know if _I_ can do this. You're not the one who has to give birth. You're not the one who has to nurse it. You're not the one who has to delay college. I just don't know if I can do it."

"How do you know until you try? Don't quit before you even try."

"Marriage and a baby aren't something you just try out! It's not something you can walk away from, it's something that…traps you!" She didn't mean to use that word, _trap_. It's not how _she_ feels when she thinks about family. That's her mother talking. _She_ wants marriage and children…someday. _**Some**_day. She's just so scared at the moment.

He cranks the ignition and throws the truck roughly into reverse. He slaps his arm behind her seat when he turns the truck around, and soon they're driving toward her dorm.

"This is my baby too," he says when they're back on the main road.

"It's my body. It's– "

"- Are you fucking kidding me?" he shouts. She's shocked by the anger in his voice, and by that one word, which he never uses in front of her. "You're not talking about getting some tattoo removed," he says, his voice lower now, forced, thin. "This is my baby. Don't I get a say?"

"Of course you get a say. I'm listening to you. I'm hearing – "

He rattles the steering wheel and pushes the accelerator down. "You're not listening. You're just saying you can't. Can't can't can't can't." He eases off the accelerator, but he still gripping the steering wheel tightly. He doesn't say anything else. He just stares forward as drives. When he gets to her dorm parking lot, he idles there, like he just wants her to get out – just get out and go.

"If I decide to go to the clinic," she asks as she unlocks the door, "Will you come with me? Will you be there for me?"

"No. And I won't give you money for it either."

"Eric – "

" - But if you decide to meet me at the altar, I'll be _there_."

"Will you break up with me if I get an abortion?"

He doesn't look at her. He's looking through the windshield. "You can't rewind that tape," he says. "You can't replay that play." He doesn't have to say more than that. She remembers breaking up with him on prom night, she remembers taking it all back the next morning, and she knows he's right. An abortion isn't something she can simply take back. But neither is a baby. Or a marriage vow.

The truck's engine murmurs and hitches and then purrs again. Tami reaches for the door handle. Just as she opens it, he says, "I wish you'd trust me, Tami. I wish you'd believe in me."

"This isn't about trusting you or believing in you."

"It's about a lot of things, but it's also about that. I already prepaid two nights for the motel, but I'm going back to A&M tomorrow morning. Call me when you decide."

She slides out of his pick-up and tries not to look like she's crying when she walks in the dorm.


	18. Proposal

As roughly as Tami brushes at her face with her sleeve, it's obvious she's been crying by the time she gets into her room. Her roommate Donna, who's got a Differential Equations text book open on the desk and is scribbling away at a problem, looks up as says, "My God. What happened, Tami? Did he break up with you?"

Tami sits on her bed. It squeaks. She's never been close to her roommate. Donna's easy to live with – quiet, polite, neat, keeps to herself - but they aren't friends. Donna is going to double major in math and science, and she's very studious. She's not a warm, fuzzy, feel-your-pain type. But for some reason, Tami ends up telling her. She tells her everything. Who else can she tell? Not her mother, who will tell her she'll go to hell for an abortion and yet trap herself by marrying Eric and having it, who will give her the choice only between flames and bonds. Not her sister, who's really still just a child, even if Shelley thinks she's not.

"Wow," Donna says when the words are all spent. "Oh, wow." She closes her math textbook. "I think you need to talk to Eric more about this. That's what you need to do. He can't just let you decide it on your own."

"I tried to talk, he – "

"- He's probably scared, Tami. And insulted."

"What?"

"Clearly he loves you. All those letters he sends? _Handwritten_ letters. The calls? Giving you gas money to drive to A&M every weekend? Most high school sweethearts break up their first year of college, but he's stuck by you. It's obvious he's totally in love with you, and he says he wants to marry you, and then you kind of told him it would be an awful thing to be married to him."

"But I didn't mean – "

" – I know you didn't, but you got to make sure he knows that. You got to make sure he knows what you're really afraid of, and why. I don't know, but it seems to me you guys really need to talk this through. You can't just let him go back to A&M and make the decision on your own and then see what he does. You have to decide together."

She knows Donna is right, she just doesn't know how to get Eric to talk. He probably thinks he's said his piece. He'll go on playing the responsible rock. He won't admit to sharing her fear, if he does share it, and if he doesn't…how could he ever understand her? She decides to go to his motel anyway. She calls first and asks for his room, but there's no answer.

She's missed one class already today and is now missing another. She doesn't know if he'll be there. It's only noon. She knocks on his door, but he doesn't answer. As she turns to leave, he startles her. He's standing just behind her at the door in shorts and a short sleeved t-shirt, and he's breathing heavily. He's been running, like his dad says he often does when he's upset, although he's probably been using the stairs of the nearby office building instead of bleachers.

"Can we please try to talk again?" she says. "Please?"

He swallows, unlocks the door, and leads her inside. "Let me take a quick shower."

He comes out with the towel wrapped around his waist and his damp, dark hair plastered down. He digs in his duffle bag. She watches him in the mirror from where she sits against the headboard. She feels the usual stirring when he unravels the towel, but it's muted. He dresses in jeans and a polo and then comes and sits next to her. He folds his hands in his lap and says, "Okay. Talk."

She wants _him_ to talk, not her. But maybe if she's honest, he will be too. It all pours out of her: "I love you, Eric. You're an amazing boyfriend, and you're so responsible, and I know you want to do the right thing, but I don't want you to be like that with me, the way you are with your dad, just trying to do what's right all the time, not necessarily because you _want_ to, but just because it's right. I don't want that kind of relationship with you. I love you, and I think I probably do want to marry you someday, but I also have plans. And I guess I'm scared to rely on you because my dad took off and my mother's spent years telling me not to trust men – "

" – I'm not your dad."

"I know you're not. But the honest truth is I'm afraid of that fact too. I mean, I'm afraid you'll rush into this marriage and baby thing because you're moral, but then you'll grow to resent it. And maybe you won't leave, but maybe you'll do something even worse. Maybe you'll stay just because you're loyal and honorable, and not because you _want_ it, and I don't ever want to be a duty you're fulfilling. I don't want to chain you. I don't want to be chained to someone who feels chained to me. And I'm just so scared! And I need you to understand. I _need_ you to understand."

"C'mere," he murmurs, and she eases into his arms.

They talk for two hours. He admits he's terrified too. He's afraid he doesn't know how to be a father, because he's never been close to his own. He confesses he's worried about making enough to provide for her and the baby during those first two years until he has his degree. He says he already feels like a failure because he's probably not getting drafted, and he doesn't know how he can get situated as a coach without a lot of moving around to bigger and better schools whenever the opportunity arises – and how can he jerk his family around like that? "I'm scared and worried about a dozen things, Tami. Just like you. But I still want to marry you."

"Marriage is a huge deal."

"Yeah, it is. So's life. I think it'll be better with you by my side. And I don't…" He looks down at her. "Listen, I'm not trying to issue an ultimatum here, I'm just being honest."

"I want you to be honest."

He swallows. "I don't know how I'll feel about you if you abort our baby. It's not an ultimatum, and I know it'll be harder for you, it's just – "

"- I understand," she says. "I do." She's not sure how she'll feel about herself either. When she was leaving the clinic, overwhelmed by fear, it seemed the only realistic option to her, but it doesn't feel that way right now. "I don't think that's really what I want. An abortion, I mean. But I don't want to start a marriage this way either. Getting married because I'm scared to raise this baby alone or because you think getting married is the right thing to do. I don't want you to feel chained later."

"I was going to ask you to marry me the summer after our junior year anyway."

"You were?"

"Yeah. I _want_ to marry you. I _want_ to be with you. I _want_ you. You're not a duty to me, Tami. You're a blessing. This baby'll be a blessing too. Maybe a hard one, but…a blessing. You don't chain me, babe. You make me feel free."

"Free?"

"Yeah. I've never felt so free. Free to just…just be who I am."

She can feel the tears pooling in her eyes. She doesn't know if they're visible. "That's how I feel too. I mean…you kind of helped me figure out who I am."

He kisses her, and she responds, tenderly at first, and then with hunger. Soon they're drawing off each other's clothes. When they're naked, he cups and caresses a breast. "Clear eyes, full heart, Tami, baby."

He leans in to suckle her, and when he moves from one breast to the next, she arches her back and gasps, "Can't lose."

He pulls her down on top of himself until they're one and they move in concert. "That's right," he murmurs in her ear. "That's right, Tami, baby. Can't lose."

"Oh, God."

His lips are warm against her ear. "Say yes. Say you'll marry me."

"Oh God," she moans.

"Say it," he insists, his breath raspier now.

"Oh God!"

"Say yes, Tami. Say you'll marry me."

"Yes, oh…Yes!"

Later, when they're side by side and he's stroking her hair, she says, "What am I going to tell our child when he asks how you proposed?"

Eric laughs. "You mean that's not a good enough story to tell the children?"

She snorts. "No. I guess our children are getting no backstory at all. As far as they'll know, Eric and Tami Taylor have simply always been Eric and Tami Taylor. We have no history, no past."

He kisses her. "There's only now," he says.

"And the future," she murmurs, kissing his cheek, breathing in his scent, with a sigh of happiness and relief, of coming home.

His fingers are like feathers on her back, moving up and down in light caresses. "We have to tell our parents we're engaged," he says.

She groans. As if the baby wasn't enough to worry about.


	19. Mixed Blessings

They agree to tell their parents over spring break. Tami doesn't have a father or an elder brother or a near enough uncle to ask for her hand. Eric's old school enough that if she did, he would have gone through the motions. It would have been a mere formality, of course, given that they're already engaged. "I'm sorry I can't do that," he says. It doesn't seem right to him, he claims, to treat Tami's mom like he would a man. "So I guess the best thing to do is to tell your mom together."

"You're just afraid to do it alone," Tami says. "Admit it."

"Maybe," he concedes.

Tami dreads the moment, the lecture from her mother about not marrying too young. Because of this, she says they should tell Eric's dad first. She doesn't think Mr. Taylor likes her, but she also thinks he takes the attitude that, when it comes to girls, his son will do what his son will do, and as long as Eric isn't "misusing" a woman, it's not his business to comment or advise. Mr. Taylor is concerned only that Eric excels at football, maintains his scholarship, performs well academically, and learns the value of hard work. This is the sphere to which he has long limited his influence, but within that sphere he can be quite demanding.

Tami expects, when they tell him, that Mr. Taylor will be displeased but will keep that displeasure to himself. He'll probably congratulate them perfunctorily and make sure Eric still intends to pursue both football and his studies with equal effort.

They tell Mr. Taylor at the dinner table the first evening they're home in South Dillon. Eric watches his father's expression as Mr. Taylor simply lays down his fork and takes up his water glass.

"Dad?" Eric asks at last, after his father has taken a few silent sips.

Mr. Taylor says only, "She doesn't have a ring."

Tami instinctively glances at her hand. Eric's proposal obviously wasn't planned, and so he couldn't do the traditional, down-on-one knee, ring-in-hand popping of the question. Tami's not a textbook kind of girl, so why should she care if she didn't have a textbook proposal? But the truth is, the quiet, secret truth is – she would have liked it. The bent knee, the words, the ring – every last gesture.

"Tami doesn't need that sort of thing," Eric says. "It's not important to her."

"But you're getting married? Soon?"

"Yes," Eric says. "The end of May." Tami prays she won't yet be showing by then. They say it usually happens in the second trimester.

"Son, come with me a minute."

Tami was not expecting Mr. Taylor to draw Eric aside for a private conference, and she wonders if she's misjudged his disinterest in his son's love life, if he's worried about Eric marrying her, if he's going to tell him he shouldn't ruin his life with this tramp. She sits staring at her mostly empty plate for what seems like an hour but is probably only ten minutes, and when Eric returns alone, her fears feel confirmed.

Eric moves the chair where he was sitting to the side, and she looks at him in confusion. Then, in the spot he has cleared, he falls to one knee. That's when she sees the box in his hand. "Tami," he says, "will you do me the great honor of making me the happiest man alive?" He opens the box to reveal a gold ring boasting a solitaire and two smaller diamonds on either side. "Will you marry me?"

She nods and whispers, "Yes," and when the ring is on her finger and he's kissed her, she asks, "Where did you get it?" She knows he sold the one he got for Kim, and this is bigger.

"It was my mother's. I hope that's okay. It's not creepy is it? My dad says it's not uncommon to pass down…you know, from a grandmother or a mother…that it's kind of traditional?"

"It's beautiful, Eric. I'll be proud to wear it." She fans out her fingers and wonders why Mr. Taylor didn't offer him this when he proposed to Kim, the perfect, straight-A, all-American girl, who didn't smoke, who didn't sleep around, and who didn't steal Mr. Taylor's scotch. Kim had to have been Mr. Taylor's perfect idea of a daughter-in-law. "Your dad gave you this to give to _me_? Really? Just now?"

Eric nods, and she finds it hard to believe. She looks down at Mr. Taylor's unexpected stamp of approval, there on her hand, and she smiles.

When Eric begins clearing and washing the dishes, she slips out of the kitchen. When she comes out to the living room, Mr. Taylor is sitting in the arm chair, a book open on his lap, and a glass of scotch resting on the arm of the chair. She sits down on the sofa and attempts to open a conversation. "What are you reading?"

"_Apologia Pro Vita Sua_."

"Oh." She has no idea what that means. She guesses the title's Latin, and based on her two years of Spanish, something to do with life and apologies. "Is it good?"

"A real page turner." He sips his scotch.

His tone sounds sarcastic, but it's a little too level for her to be sure. She thinks he might be serious. He's not a man to express his emotions, and she supposes he could describe even a page turner in that dry voice. "Is it a thriller?" she ventures.

He smiles, she thinks, indulgently. "No. It's an apologetic. A defense of Catholic doctrine against unwarranted attacks. Your mother ought to read it."

"Yeah, my mom mostly reads…light devotionals. Women's devotionals. That kind of stuff."

He turns a page. "Naturally. She's woefully ignorant of church history. It's the only way to maintain her fundamentalist, anti-Catholic opinions."

What has her mother been saying to Mr. Taylor while she's been away at college? Are they battling over theology now instead of the bushes? "I didn't know you were so religious," she says.

"And how religious is _**so**_ religious?" he asks.

She can't tell if he's offended or amused. He looks sort of amused, from the slight twitching at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes are on the book, not her, so it's hard to tell. "I…don't know. You read a lot of theology. I mean, I've seen the books in your room. I mean, just in passing. Theology and football. Sports and philosophy. Kind of…disparate interests."

He turns another page. Either he reads incredibly quickly or he's not really reading at the moment. "Disparate. Sound like an SAT word."

She wasn't trying to sound pretentious. It was just the first word that came to her mind. Is he making fun of her? She doesn't even know. Why did he let her have the engagement ring? Before she can lose the courage, she says, "Thank you for letting me have your wife's ring. I'm a little surprised because I kind of thought you disapproved of me."

He takes a slow sip of his scotch, not moving his eyes from the page. "And why did you think that?"

"Well, because you asked me not to be a roadblock to Eric."

"Ah." At last he looks up from his book. He studies her. "Ms. Hayes, I confess I feared you might distract Eric's focus from the things that matter, but perhaps that's because I've been without my wife for so many years now that I've forgotten what matters. She tended to remind me." The scotch settles on the arm of his chair and another page turns.

Eric shuffles into the room. "The movie starts in ten minutes," he tells her. "We better get going." He nods to his father, who is still immersed in his book. "I'll be home around midnight, Dad."

His father tilts his head slightly in acknowledgement, and Tami rises and takes her fiancé's hand.

**/FNLFNL/**

They tell Mrs. Hayes the next night at dinner. They're all sitting tightly crammed together at the Hayes's circular kitchen table. They've just eaten Mom's famous hot dogs and beans. Mrs. Hayes has seven dishes she rotates through on a weekly basis, most of which come from cans or packages and none of which require more than fifteen minutes to prepare. (Tami will take cooking classes a couple of years after marrying Eric, because she wants to give him more than her mother gave her. He'll make it worthwhile by oohing and awing over her meals, but eventually he'll start to take them for granted, so she'll feed him nothing but easy bake for a week until he finally says, "What happened to all the really good stuff you used to cook?" Then she'll get mad, and he'll apologize, and then he'll cook for her for the next two months, until Tami decides that, really, she enjoys cooking nice meals even if only for herself.)

"Engaged?" Mrs. Hayes says.

Shelley appears unsuprised. "I get to be maid of honor, right? You better pick a dress I look good in."

"Engaged?" Mrs. Hayes repeats and Eric takes Tami's hand on the table.

"Come on, mom," Shelley says. "You had to know it was going to happen. They've been dating for like two years. That's a major record for Tami."

Tami glares at her. Then she looks back at her mother and braces herself for the worst, but Mrs. Hayes is surprisingly calm. "Yes…I thought it _might_…._eventually_. But…you two are a bit young, don't you think, Tami?" Tami feels sure her mom glanced down when she asked it, toward her belly, like she knows about the pregnancy.

"You were the same age when you got married," Tami insists. _And also pregnant_, she wants to add, but doesn't.

"Yes," Mrs. Hayes says coolly, "and you see how _that_ turned out."

Eric draws his bottom lip under his teeth.

Tami sighs. Here goes the confrontation. "Eric and I will be fine, mom."

Mrs. Hayes is quiet for a long time. When she speaks, she's surprisingly calm. "I hope that's true, for your sake. For _everyone's_ sake." And now Tami is sure her mom is looking at her belly. "I suppose you'll get married as soon as possible."

"End of May," Eric tells her.

This draws Mrs. Hayes's attention to Eric. "Are you going to insist she raise the kids Catholic?"

"No, ma'am," he says. "She can raise them anyway she wants."

"So they'll be Baptists." That's not what Eric has said, but that's what Mrs. Hayes hears, and neither of them bothers to correct her. "And you'll get married in the Baptist Temple?"

Tami glances at Eric. They haven't discussed this yet. They've talked about who they want in the wedding party, and how little they can afford to spend, but that's it. "Yeees?" Tami says, as though asking Eric at the same time she answers her mother. Eric grits his teeth. He does not appear pleased.

"Eric?" Mrs. Hayes asks.

"Sure," he says slowly, and looking at Tami, the tension in his jaw slackening, "the wedding's for the bride."

Tami squeezes his hand, a thank you, even though this wedding's not really for the bride. It's to appease a mom Tami loves and hates, a mom who's been abandoned by her husband and is now about to lose her oldest daughter.

It's to give Dolly Hayes a little parting peace.


	20. The Wedding

When the wedding day arrives, Tami's all one nervous jitter. Shelley and her mother have just cemented her into the wedding dress that had to be let out yesterday. It's simple but traditional, and Tami has fallen in love with it – she just wishes it wasn't so hard to get into. Mrs. Hayes sends Shelley on some manufactured errand, and, when she's gone, says, "When it's due?"

Tami flushes red and asks, "What?"

"I asked when the baby is due," Mrs. Hayes repeats. "Don't worry, you're not showing. That's not why I know. You just look like you've gained weight."

Tami feels the anger rising like a flood. Really? Her mother is going to do this? A knock down drag out fight on her wedding day? "Gee, thanks, mom. Glad to know I look fat on my wedding day. And why do you know?" She could insist she's not pregnant, but this argument is probably easier.

"Mother's instinct. So when's it due?"

"November. Guess I'm no better than you, huh? All the same mistakes. Are you happy now?"

Mrs. Hayes brushes something from the back of Tami's dress. "Not all of them," she says. "I think you've picked a better husband. I'm glad, at least, it's Eric and not Mo."

This is not the response Tami was expecting, so she's still in anger mode. "Even though Mo's the son of an _elder_ at the sin-free Baptist Temple? And Eric's just the son of a heathen Catholic?"

"Tami, I never called Mr. Taylor a _heathen_. Did he tell you that? Graydon doesn't always mean what he says. He can be sarcastic." It's weird to hear her mother refer to Eric's dad by his first name, but what else is she supposed to call him? "Look, I see the way Eric treats you. And he's a responsible boy. I wish you'd done things differently. I wish you hadn't had sex with him before you were married and hadn't gotten married before you had your degree. Then you wouldn't have gotten pregnant before you were ready. I wish you'd have listened to me. But you didn't, so you had to make the best of a bad situation, and I think you did the best you could at that point. At least you aren't aborting it or trying to raise it alone, which would be much harder, trust me. At least Eric loves you."

Tami's not sure what to make of this speech.

"Your father never looked at me the way Eric looks at you," her mom says, her tone a little wistful. "Even in the beginning, even before the affairs. But promise me something. Promise me you'll finish your degree. That you'll have something to fall back on if things happen that are beyond your control."

"If Eric leaves me, you mean?"

"It can happen, Tami."

Tami sighs and does her best to reassure her mother. She tells her of her plan to go back and finish in two years when Eric's graduated and working full time.

Mrs. Hayes nods. "Maybe this marriage has a real chance of lasting a lifetime, Tami. Try to make it work. I pray it does."

"Thanks, Mom."

"I love you."

Tami's a little stunned. It's not something her mother says often. Sometimes she shouts it when they're fighting in an "I love you BUT" sort of way. Yet to say it like that, so calmly and sincerely…Tami's about to reply when Shelley returns and the preparations recommence.

**/FNL/**

The church is strangely lopsided. On the groom's side are four family members, including Eric's father, a dozen former Cougars, and a few A&M players. On Tami's side is her mom, some aunts and uncles and cousins, a handful of college friends, and almost the entire congregation of the Baptist Temple.

At the alcohol-free, cake-and-punch reception that follows the ceremony in the church fellowship hall, Mr. Taylor approaches the bride in a rare, unsurrounded moment, just as she's looking for the next group of friends to join. Eric has been encircled by most of his old Cougar teammates. Even Mo is in the crowd, and he's brought a very buxom date, a college cheerleader, who is at this moment sitting at one of the tables and looking in Mo's direction with narrowed eyes, no doubt wondering if he's ever going to rejoin her.

Mr. Taylor's eyes are dancing and twinkling and he's smiling at Tami, which surprises her, because she's never seen him smile before, except slightly and sardonically. She's certainly never seen him flat out _grin_ like this. He leans forward now, and she realizes the reason for his uncharacteristic exuberance. She can smell the scotch on his breath. He pats his breast pocket. "Want a pull?" he asks. Like many of the football players, he's apparently brought his own supply into the den of teetotalers.

"No thank you," she answers and looks around for avenues of escape.

"Holy Mother of Jesus," he says. "You look beautiful, Tami." Did he just call her Tami? Not Ms. Hayes? Tami stops looking around and looks back at her father-in-law. His eyes are teary. "Absolutely stunning. Just like Julia did when I married her. Lord how happy that woman made me." Tami opens her mouth to respond, but he keeps talking, "Make Eric happy will you? He's so damn serious sometimes. I…I guess some of that's my fault. But I've seen him with you. The way you make him smile. The way you make him laugh. The way you make him…live life abundantly."

Tami tries to reply, but she doesn't know what to say.

"He's a good kid, Eric. Always has been. He deserves a little happiness. Promise me you'll make him happy." He raises a shaky finger, "And promise you won't die on him."

"I—"

By this point Eric has broken free from the Cougars and is at her elbow. "Hey, Dad," he says, looking at his inebriated father warily. "I'm going to dance with my bride now if that's a'ight with you."

Mr. Taylor nods and motions widely towards an open area on the floor of the fellowship hall. As Eric leads her out by the arm, Tami hisses, "There's no music. And you know there's not supposed to be any dancing at the temple."

Eric draws her close to himself and starts swaying with her. "You know why Baptists are against having sex standing up?" he asks, and she giggles because she's heard this one before. "They're afraid it might lead to dancing."

She leans her head against his shoulder and sways with him. "We should try that. We haven't tried that yet."

"We've danced plenty."

"No," she chuckles. "The sex standing up."

He pulls back a little and looks at her with a lecherous smile. They haven't had much sex lately. She's been exhausted, and a little nauseous, and trying to finish up her sophomore year, so she can go out with a bang and pick up again in two years. He drove up to MWU every weekend in April and May, because he didn't want her driving to A&M. After curfew, he slept in the bed of his truck, to save money (motels add up), and to prevent Tami from getting in trouble if he tried to stay in her dorm. They managed to have sex twice in all that time. "Tonight?" he asks.

"Well, we have to do _something_ different for the honeymoon." She falls back into position.

Her mom comes up to them and whispers to Tami, "What are you doing?"

"Dancing, Mom, what does it look like?"

"Tami," she whispers, "Pastor Bob doesn't really – "

"- Dance with me, Dolly," comes Mr. Taylor's voice. Mrs. Hayes, startled, jumps and turns to see Eric's dad behind her.

"Graydon," Dolly Hayes says, "I really don't think it would be appropriate to – "

Mr. Taylor grabs Tami's mom by the waist and yanks her against himself. Mrs. Hayes lets out a yelp. Mr. Taylor laughs and starts twirling her around the room. His limp is still there, but it's subdued. Maybe alcohol works as a counterbalance, the limp steadying the stumble.

"Good Lord," Tami says. "I thought he was a bit drunk, but he must be _completely_ trashed to be dancing with my mom." Eric chuckles and turns Tami around so she can see the tail end of a scene that involves her mom pushing Mr. Taylor away, slapping him angrily on the shoulder, and then strutting off. There are a lot of men watching her as she does so, and Tami realizes that they aren't watching her just because it's a scene. For maybe the first time, Tami sees her mom as not merely a mom, but as a woman, and sees that she's beautiful.

"I think we better do separate holidays with our families, don't you?" Eric asks, pressing his cheek against hers.

"Better yet," Tami says, "Maybe let's just have holidays to ourselves for the first few years." She feels his cheek pull suddenly away and asks, "What's wrong?"

"They're clanging for the toasts," he says, and she hears it too, spoons against glasses. Eric looks back at his father, who is now limp-stumbling his way to his seat at the head table. "This could be embarrassing."

Once the couple makes their way back to the table, they stay standing, and Eric's best man Tom McMann, the former Cougars punter, gives the first toast of the evening. He and Eric haven't seen each other much the past two years, but Eric spent so much time studying, playing football, and seeing Tami in college that he hasn't really made close friends at A&M. The toast is lightly comical, with plenty of inside Cougars football jokes, corny, and a little over long, but they get through it, sparkling cider in hand.

Shelley follows Tom, giving McMaan the eye and a flirtatious smile as she takes the microphone. Tom is much too old for her, and Tami doesn't like the way he catches her smile. "Tami," Shelley says, "We've had so much fun together. And so many fights. And Eric still hasn't returned that Centipede cartridge, which was mine, not Tami's, so now that you're my brother-in-law, Eric, you have to pay interest. You have Night Rider too. You better bring them back. Not tonight, though. Don't guess y'all will be playing Atari tonight."

Tom McMann laughs, overly loudly, while Tami rolls her eyes. Eric looks like an older brother embarrassed by his younger sister's pathetic attempt at humor, and everyone else just looks confused.

"Anyway," Shelley continues, "I just want to say I totally love you Tami, and you're my big sister, and I'm happy for you, and Eric better not cross me." She points her finger at him. "Don't poke the bear." She smiles, and Eric gives Tami his _What the hell?_ look. Tami starts to wonder if someone has been giving Shelley pulls from his flask, and then she notices Mo lingering near the punch bowl, and wonders when he spiked it. Of course, Shelley doesn't need to be drunk to be making limited sense, and she probably isn't, but this toast is a little out there even for Shelley. "Have a great life, you two. You'll make adorable babies." Tami can see Eric's jaw tighten as her hand tenses in his. Shelley doesn't know, can't know, about the pregnancy. She's just…talking. "And I get to be the cool aunt, because they're going to need one with Eric as their dad. God bless. Peace. Out." She holds out the microphone, looking around, not sure who's taking it next.

Mr. Taylor stands. He's swaying a little, and he steadies himself with a hand on the table. Eric closes his eyes as if already mortified. "It can't be worse than Shelley's toast," Tami reassures him. Eric lets out a breath and reopens his eyes.

Mr. Taylor's glass of sparkling cider moves in a sloppy circle. "Eric," he says, "you're my son. I love you, and I'm damn proud of you." Dolly Hayes eyebrow goes up at the damn. "Be a good husband to this lovely young lady. Be a good husband. Because as long as you succeed at that, it doesn't matter what else you fail at." He lifts his glass. "That is all." And then he sips the cider, winces, perhaps, at its sweetness, and staggers back down into his chair. Dolly Hayes, who is in the seat next to him, shakes her head.

"Yeah," Eric bends to murmur in Tami's ear, "holidays to ourselves," but he's smiling, proudly, and Tami thinks alcohol is a beautiful thing if it can lower Mr. Taylor's inhibitions enough that he can finally tell his son what Eric has, for so long, so desperately needed to hear.


	21. The Shock

The "honeymoon" is nothing more than a night spent in a bed and breakfast, because Tami and Eric need to move into family housing on Sunday, and then Eric starts his full-time summer job as a personal trainer on Monday to save as much as he can before summer training starts for the Aggies. Tami plans to do work for a temp agency so she can quit easily when the baby comes. They won't take anything like a true vacation until their tenth anniversary, when they'll get away for an entire week to the Virgin Islands, leaving Julie in the care of "cool Aunt Shelley."

When they arrive at what's supposed to be "the most romantic B&B this side of west Texas," Eric mutters, "It's basically just some woman's house."

"At least we have our own private bathroom," Tami says. "And a soaking tub. Sort of."

"We can't both fit in there," he grumbles, peering into the bathroom around her.

"Well, sorry, I'll check it out in advance next time."

"Next time we get married?" he asks.

"It's not like we can afford better right now." She regrets it when she sees him grimace and realizes he's only grumbling because he wants to give her more. He's mad at himself that he couldn't. He told her the budget, and she made the choice.

"I like it," she says as she walks out of the bathroom. "It's quaint. And the most important thing? Sturdy walls." She pushes on the wall only to hear it give a little. "But maybe we should stick with the bed, what with me being pregnant and all."

"Is that why, or do you just not want to bust through and land naked in a pile of drywall in the hallway?"

"Shut up," she says, and wraps her arms around his neck. "We're married now. I want to find out if married sex is better." He smiles.

The bed creaks like crazy, but both are too eager for one another to be mortified by the fact. Afterwards, Eric looks especially peaceful and happy. It's probably the sex (it's been awhile), but maybe he's also relieved to have the wedding over with. Maybe he's even glad to be married. When he kisses her ear, he says, "Married sex _is_ better, Mrs. Taylor."

She giggles. She thinks they could be married thirty years and she still won't be used to being called that.

They cuddle and kiss awhile longer, and then she says, "Go get the presents. I want to see what we got." Tom McMann loaded them into the covered bed of Eric's pick-up before tying on the cans and toilet paper.

"You want me to bring _all_ those up here?"

"Well, get the cards anyway. And one or two presents."

He returns with all of the cards and three wrapped gifts, and they sit on the bed and open the presents first. Two are small crystal vases. The third is also crystal, and they spend five minutes discussing what it is. "Candy dish?" Eric guesses.

"No, it's too narrow for that."

"Another vase?"

She shakes her head. "The flowers could hardly have any stems."

Eric turns it over. "Soap dish?"

"A _**crystal**_ soap dish? Do you know anyone who has a crystal soap dish?"

"I don't know anyone who has two crystal vases either."

They finally give up guessing. "Maybe we can sell it and get cable for a couple of months," Eric says.

Tami picks up a check that has fallen out of the card she's just opened. Her face must speak her confusion, because Eric says, "What?"

"It's from your dad. I think he made a mistake. I think he put an extra zero in by accident."

Eric takes the check from her hand. He looks a little stunned too. "No. He wrote that same amount on the line where you write it out too. In words."

"Ten thousand dollars?" Tami asks. "Ten _**thousand**_?"

Eric laughs giddily. "Hey, that's nice of him, huh?"

"It's unbelievably nice. You guys live in a crappy house just like ours. He got a second mortgage. How does he have ten thousand dollars lying around to just give away?"

"Well, I don't know if you can really call it a second mortgage when you've paid off your first." He hands the check back to her. "We can definitely afford cable now."

"You and cable," she says.

"Gotta see the games."

"Eric, don't you wonder where his money comes from?"

"Good sales year at the car dealership, I guess. Or he got a lot of tips tending bar."

"Yeah, you're dad's soooooo personable. I'm sure he just gets tons of tips."

"Well I don't think he got it dealing drugs or prostituting himself. Tami, you ever hear that phrase - don't look a gift horse in the mouth?"

"Fine," she says, putting the check back in the card. "Can I get a toaster oven now?" She'd mentioned wanting one, and Eric asked her why she wanted to spend money on that when she already had a toaster and an oven.

"If there's not one in the truck already. Maybe all the gifts aren't crystal vases."

**/FNL/**

Eric's lying on his back in the bed next to Tami and tossing his football up in the air and catching it. He's staring vacantly at the stucco ceiling, which has a large crack that goes all the way to the far wall and then down by the window, which is where the ants keep crawling in, sometimes in large black swarms. They finally got housing to send an exterminator out last week, and they haven't seen any since.

The bedroom is about the same size as Tami's dorm room was, but the apartment also has a tiny kitchen, a full bathroom, and a small sitting area. The important thing is that Eric's scholarship is paying for it. They're saving part of Mr. Taylor's gift for a down payment on a house. They'd like to buy one in five to six years.

Tami turns a page of the book she's reading. The football makes a slapping sound as it falls back into Eric's hands.

"Nervous?" Tami asks him.

His first game of the season is in three days, and the baby is due in three months. She's talking about the game, but he says, "We can do this thing. People have done it for hundreds of thousands of years. How hard can it be?"

**/FNL/**

"You can find out what sex it is before it's born?" Mrs. Hayes voice is full of disbelief.

"Yeah," Tami tells her, stretching the cord of the phone so she can sit at the two-person table just off the kitchen. "They can do it with ultrasounds now, Mom." They probably could when Mrs. Hayes was pregnant with Shelley, too, it just wasn't very common.

"Well I'm sure Eric's glad it's a boy."

"Wait, how did you know?" Tami hasn't actually told her the sex yet. That was the reason for this call after all.

"Graydon told me. I guess Eric got a hold of him before you got ahold of me."

"Oh." Well that's a letdown. She wanted to be the one to share the news with her mother, not Mr. Taylor. At least her mom sounds slightly excited.

**/FNL/**

The 12" television sits on a cart against the living room wall, the warm glow and the low murmur of Sunday football on the screen. Eric sits on the love seat (they couldn't fit a couch in this room) with his feet up on the coffee table, right next to a pile of neatly folded laundry to which Tami keeps adding. They don't have a washer and dryer, and their laundry has to be lugged to one of the building's two laundromats. Eric won't let her do that anymore. He does the wash, she does the folding – that's their deal.

"Oh!" she cries suddenly.

Eric points to the T.V. with his bottle of beer, which an older married couple (in their late twenties, graduate students) supply them. "Nah, he recovered it."

"No," she says, and he turns to glance at her and sees she has her hand on her stomach and a startled look on her face. She smiles, reaches out and takes his free hand, and places it where hers was. It's certainly not the first time the baby has kicked, but it's the most obvious, and the little guy's not slowing down.

Tami loves the look on Eric's face as he feels the movements, his broad, growing grin. "Little James Aaron is going to be one hell of a punter," he says. They've chosen the name after Eric's grandfather and Tami's own. "One hell of a punter," Eric repeats.

**/FNL/**

The bleeding starts six weeks before her due date.

Tami's alone in the apartment fixing dinner when she feels the wetness. She flicks the burner off and leans against the stove.

Just as she does, the front door opens, and Eric's voice wafts to her, "Guess what I got the baby? A little Aggie's jersey. You're gonna love how adorable this - "

He's rounded the counter and now sees the blood running down her legs. He drops the jersey to the floor and cries her name as he runs to her, but she barely hears it.

**/FNL/**

"Mr. Taylor, the first thing I want to tell you is that your wife is okay. She came through this in full health, and she's going to be fine."

Tami's face is to the wall of the hospital room. Why is Mr. Taylor here? What are they talking about? Mr. Taylor's wife is dead. It's another minute before she realizes the doctor means Eric.

"And the baby?" comes Eric's shaky voice.

The doctor must respond with only a shake of the head, because there's only silence now. She hears Eric sit down in the chair by the bed, feels his hand on her shoulder, but she doesn't turn.

**/FNL/**

Eric misses one game because he's with Tami at the hospital, and then he does so badly in the next that Coach benches him. "Sorry, Eric," he says. "I can't risk it. You're distracted…understandably, but I can't risk it."

Tami spends a lot of time sleeping and not enough eating.

One night Eric comes home late after a special evening practice and gets under the covers and just lies on his back. Suddenly Tami turns to him and half yells, "Why don't you talk about it! Why don't you ever talk about it?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Something. Anything. How you feel."

"I feel like shit! I'm mad! I'm…." He shakes his head.

"Are you sorry you married me now?"

"God no, Tami! God, no!"

She cries and he holds her, and eventually she falls asleep. Maybe he does too.

**/FNL/**

It's three weeks before they make love. He's so very tender with her, as though she were a virgin. She cries afterward, and he holds her closely.

"Do you want to try again?" he asks. "For a baby?"

"Yes," she says. "Someday." She shifts against his shoulder, where she's rested her head. "No, not someday," she says. "After I get my degree." Not after the six-year career plan she originally crafted for herself at the age of nineteen. Not that far in the future. "Is that okay? Do you want to?"

"Yeah. I do. I love you, Tami."

She turns and accepts the comfort of his lips on hers.

There will be one more miscarriage in the years to come, about three years after Julie is born. It will occur in the first trimester, and though it will sadden them, it will be less disturbing than this first, late one. That miscarriage will be followed by years of infertility and then, finally, the beautiful surprise that is Gracie.


	22. Thanksgiving

Eric and Tami spend Thanksgiving day in South Dillon. Both families are planning to join together at Mr. Taylor's house, despite the newlywed couple's wedding-day resolve not to share holidays. It seems impossible not to join the tiny clans when they live next door to each other.

When the truck pulls up into Mr. Taylor's driveway, Tami's the first to spy the _For Sale_ sign in the yard. "Your dad's moving?" she asks as they get out.

Eric stops still and stares at the sign. "I didn't know." When they're through the front door, he asks his dad, "What's that all about? You're moving?"

"I was going to tell you today. You know how I took out that second mortgage awhile back?"

"Yeah," Eric says.

"I was investing in a restaurant my cousin Eddie opened in New York. It's done really well. He wants me to move up and take over the business end."

"Oh." When he's alone with Tami, Eric says, "Well, good thing he can finally get rid of this craphole of a house," but Tami thinks Eric's a little sad at the thought of seeing his childhood home go. He's also not likely to see as much of his father in the years to come, and though they aren't close, Tami thinks maybe Eric wishes they were.

When Shelley and Mrs. Hayes come over, it gets crowded in the tiny Taylor kitchen. Mrs. Hayes insists on cooking – that's the woman's job, she says – but the truth is, she's not very good at it. Mr. Taylor takes over. Still, Mrs. Hayes hovers in the kitchen. Tami overhears one of their many squabbles when she comes in for a glass of water.

"You aren't putting marshmallows on that?" Tami's mom asks, gesturing to the sweet potatoes that are about to go in the oven.

"No," Mr. Taylor insists. "That dampens the natural taste."

Mrs. Hayes shakes her head. "I suppose you'll stop drinking sweet tea the moment you move to New York."

He replies, "I _already_ don't drink sweet tea."

"Good Lord, Graydon!" Mrs. Hayes mutters.

"Just sit down, Dolly," Mr. Taylor insists. "Watch the game with your daughters and son-in-law. I know what I'm doing. I own half a restaurant now."

Mrs. Hayes does not obey. She's still in the kitchen when Tami returns to the living room and cuddles up next to Eric on the couch. Shelley sits in the arm chair and flips through a fashion magazine. Every fifteen minutes or so, Mr. Taylor limps out to check on the game, and Eric gives him an update. Father and son talk football, if not much else. It's at least one thing Eric shares with his father.

Somehow the two parents concoct what Eric declares to be "a damn fine meal," before looking at his mother-in-law and apologizing for the "damn." It isn't her scolding look that makes him apologize to her, however, but his father's. He's been told, "Never swear in front of a lady." Tami will still hear plenty of damns and hells over the years, but it will always be a rare moment when he says anything stronger in front of her. On those very unusual occasion when he does, she'll know that his stress or anger or both are through the roof and that she needs to make herself scarce until he calms down.

Later Shelley and Mrs. Hayes go back to their house, but Tami and Eric are sleeping at Mr. Taylor's. They'll spend the night in Eric's old untouched room, in the twin bed. He still has the Cougars pendant hanging from the wall – all of his old high school stuff, and none of the college – a room that's a still shot of a world he's never going back to.

Tami does the dishes and cleans up the kitchen while Eric and Mr. Taylor watch the last of the last game together. When she comes out to the living room, the TV's off, Mr. Taylor has a book in his hands, and Eric has gone to take a shower. She sits down on the couch but just stares vacantly at the blank screen. She's still not herself. She still has these moments of dead numbness inside. It's awhile before she senses that Mr. Taylor is studying her.

"What?" she asks.

He looks down at his book. "Before Eric, Julia and I had a daughter."

Tami's shocked. Eric never mentioned an older sister.

"Stillborn," Mr. Taylor explains. Maybe they never told Eric, or maybe they did and it's not the sort of thing that comes up in everyday conversation with your girlfriend. Or wife. She's Eric's wife now. Sometimes it's hard to believe. "When a child dies before it's lived," Mr. Taylor continues, "people don't really let you mourn properly. It can be…rough."

Tami nods. She didn't realize it until he said it, but that's been precisely the problem. It's just a miscarriage, people seem to think. The next week, you move on.

"My church does these special services," Mr. Taylor says, his eyes still on his book. "Group memorial services for women who have lost a child to miscarriage or abortion or still birth. The next one is the first weekend in December, if you want to come up for it. It might give you some sense of closure." He slowly turns a page and runs his fingertips across the text, like he needs something to do with his hands. "It's just a suggestion."

"I might…that might be a good idea. I'm not Catholic though. You know that. Of course."

"It doesn't matter. Your mother thinks it's a good idea."

"My mother?" Eric and Tami – since they do get cable now – were watching _MST3K_ the other night, and during a horror scene involving some kind of a satanic ritual, one of the shadowy movie commentators said, "This is what Baptists think Catholic mass is like." Tami and Eric simultaneously burst out laughing. It certainly brought Mrs. Hayes to mind. So if Tami's having a little trouble believing Mr. Taylor right now, it's only natural. Not only does she not believe her mother thinks anything a Catholic church is doing is a good idea, but she can't imagine when her mom and Mr. Taylor discussed her miscarriage. But she supposes they did spend all that time in the kitchen today, and they _are_ next door neighbors. Maybe they talk more now than they did when Eric and Tami were living here.

Mr. Taylor puts his finger in his book to hold his place and closes it. He stares at the cover. "I'm sure she'll be there, if you choose to do it."

Tami says she'll think about it. When her father-in-law scratches the side of his head, she notices the spray of silver beginning to spread through his raven-black hair. She looks at the smooth, hard lines of his face and sees the pain etched there. She's not the only one with moments of numbness, moments of feeling adrift. "It must be hard for you," she says softly. "You've lost both a wife _and_ a daughter." She wonders what Mr. Taylor was like before all that, if he was less closed off, or if he's always been semi-aloof.

"Well," he says, and for the first time in the conversation he looks directly in her eyes, "you're my daughter now." She blinks in surprise, and, clearly embarrassed, he looks away, but he doesn't grow immediately silent. "You're a lot like I imagine Grace would have been, had she lived. Feisty but compassionate. Like her mother was. Julia was…" He smiles lightly. "Julia."

"What are y'all watching?" comes Eric's voice as he enters the living room. He stares at the blackened screen. "Oh, I thought I heard voices." He apparently can't imagine the possibility of his wife and father having a conversation.

Mr. Taylor appears relieved by the interruption and reopens his book. He resumes reading, or pretends to, while Eric slides down next to Tami, drapes an arm around her, and turns on sports news.


	23. The Incident

Tami decides to go to the memorial service Mr. Taylor suggested. There are several women there, and fewer men. There are quiet prayers, and children who died before they were born are named by name. The priest delivers a brief homily, a quarter of the length of the sermons Tami's used to enduring in her mother's church. There's a liturgy that's printed on a sheet she's been given, and people speak the words together. It's different - strange yet comforting at the same time. Her mother sits quietly beside her in the pew. Mrs. Hayes looks very uncomfortable, but at least she's there. Mr. Taylor sits on the other side of Eric. Periodically, the man crosses himself. Less often than his father, Eric makes the same sign.

Eric and Tami, like the other would-have-been mothers and fathers present, are given a little memorial plaque, which bears the name James Aaron and the year he would have been born. When Eric holds the plaque in his hands, he cries. It's the first time he's cried about it since it happened.

Mrs. Hayes hugs her daughter. Mr. Taylor sits silently beside his son. He does not look at the quietly crying Eric, but he puts a hand on his son's shoulder.

Life resumes, and the sense of loss fades. For the next year, Tami and Eric's marriage is like a car that stalls and then jerks forward, stalls and then jerks forward again. Tami transfers to A&M and receives a partial scholarship. She loads up on classes so she can cram two years into three semesters and graduate at the same time as Eric.

Mr. Taylor, for reasons he does not share with his son, puts off his move to New York. No one is knocking on Eric's door to recruit him. When his final football season starts, Eric calls and tells his father, "I'm not going pro. You need to know that."

"There's still a – "

"Dad, there's no chance. No chance. Coach has been plain. He doesn't want to play me much this season. There's a new guy. A better guy, and I'm on the way out. But Coach is gonna let me shadow him, so I can start learning the trade. That's what I'm going to do for my career. Teach and coach."

His Dad sighs. "Those who can't do teach," he says.

Eric grits his teeth.

There's silence, and then Mr. Taylor: "Sorry. I mean…I guess it's better than selling cars or half owning a restauraunt. No one ever inspired anyone by selling cars. You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din."

"What?" Eric asks.

"Nothing. It's a poem by…it's nothing."

When Eric hangs up the phone and Tami asks him how the conversation went, he says, "I think he sort of said I have a chance to inspire people."

"Baby steps," she says.

**/FNL/**

During their last semester of college, in January, Eric realizes he left his lucky St. Christopher's medal in his old bedroom in South Dillon when they went home for Christmas, and he feels he really needs it for his upcoming interview. He has a chance to coach Pee Wee this coming summer and fall. It's a volunteer position, but a lot of people want it, and he actually has to interview.

"I'm not good luck enough for you, sugar?" Tami teases.

He kisses her. "You're the luckiest thing that's ever happened to me, but I can't take you to the interview with me."

They drive up on a Saturday afternoon. They try to call ahead before they leave A&M, but no one answers. Mr. Taylor refuses to pay the phone company for voice mail and still has an old-fashioned answering machine, which is full and not taking new messages. When they arrive, they don't see any lights on inside the house. "Can't believe he's asleep already," Eric says when they get out of the truck. They always take the pick-up when they're together, because Eric always drives, and he prefers it to her two-door sedan. "Guess the old man is getting' old." Mr. Taylor turned forty-three this year, and Tami's mom hit the big 4-0.

Eric still has a key, so they walk right in and flick on the overhead light in the small tiled area that passes for a foyer. A few feet away, in the living room, a lump stirs on the couch. Mr. Taylor sits up and mutters something. He hasn't got a shirt on. Then when another lump stirs and sits up and the blanket falls further off, Tami sees he's only wearing boxers. She also notices that the other lump is missing a shirt, but it's a few seconds before she realizes that lump is her own mother.

"What the fuck?" Tami's never dropped an f-bomb in front of her mother before. Mrs. Hayes starts to scold her for her language, stops immediately, and then reaches for her shirt on the living room floor while Mr. Taylor scrambles to pull on his pants.

"This isn't what it looks like," Tami's mom insists.

"Well, it looks like you and Mr. Taylor are half naked and on the couch," Tami says. "That's what it _looks_ like."

By now Mr. Taylor has zipped up and is pulling on his shirt. His face flushed red, he disappears down the hallway toward his bedroom. Eric, his eyes fixed on the floor as he walks, follows his dad.

"We didn't do anything," Tami's mom says coolly.

"Really? _Both_ your shirts and his pants got caught on something and just kind of slid off?"

"Well, it just sort of happened."

"What? You came to borrow a cup of sugar and just happened to trip and stumble together down on the – "

" – Okay," her mother admits, "I gave into temptation a little bit. One time! See, this is exactly what happens when you're not on your guard! That's why I've always warned you - "

"- Holy cow, Mom! My father-in-law? That's just _gross_."

"Well I assure you it will never, ever happen again. Not that it happened this time. I mean, something happened, but not _it_. _It_ wasn't going to happen either."

"Uh-huh," Tami says. "Where's Shelley?"

"She's spending the night at a friend's house."

Tami raises an eyebrow. She was never permitted to spend the night at a friend's house. If she was going to get away for a night, she had to manufacture a story about a youth retreat some other church was having. Otherwise, she was expected to be home by ten. Shelley's living under a different regime, it seems.

By now Eric's back in the living room. He doesn't look at his mother-in-law. He's holding his St. Christopher's medal in the palm of his hand. He grabs Tami's hand and pulls her toward the front door. They don't speak when they get in his truck, and they both sit in stunned silence for the first twenty miles of the drive back to A&M. There's no way they're staying the night in South Dillon now.

Tami finally says, "Do you think they're seriously seeing each other?"

"God I hope not."

Tami groans and covers her face with her hands. "They were about to have sex. Maybe they already have before. My mom says they haven't, but maybe - "

"- Tami, we **cannot** talk about this. We just can't. Ever again."

Tami lets out a long and shaky sigh. "I know." Five minutes later, she's talking about it again. "What did he say to you when you followed him down the hall anyway?"

"He said I need to remember to look them in the eye during my interview."

"Seriously?" Tami asks. "That's what he said?"

Eric nods.

"He just acted like nothing happened?"

"What was he supposed to do? Give me a report? Grade your mom on a scale of one to ten?"

"Ewwwwww!"

"I told you to stop talking about it!" Eric manages to jiggle the steering wheel a little. "Jeez…" he says. "They argue every second I've seen them together. I can't _imagine_ how that happened." He shakes his head violently, like he's trying to shake out a disturbing picture.

"My mother once told me I'd go to hell if I so much as looked at a guy with lust in my heart."

Eric shakes his head. "He's going to have to go to confession every day for a week."

Traffic is sparse. The faint sounds of tires on the pavement begin to ease Tami asleep. When she wakes up, it's eleven, and Eric's parked in front of a motel. "I'll check us in," he says. "I can't drive all the way back in one night."

"I wonder if my mom stayed after we left."

"Don't, Tami. _**Don't.**_"

"Okay!" she agrees. "Okay. I just don't get it. I don't know. All their bickering. The things she's said about Catholics. The things he's said about Baptists. Who knows. Maybe he likes that she argues with him all the time. He said your mom was feisty. I think maybe he _likes_ feisty women."

"Did you not hear me when I said to stop talking about it?" Eric asks as he slides out of the truck.


	24. Boring's Good

Tami and Eric don't ask their parents anymore questions about what becomes known around their apartment as "the incident." Shelley, however, tells Tami that she thinks Mom was seeing Mr. Taylor for almost a month prior to "the incident," because while Mrs. Hayes _claimed_ to be going to a Wednesday evening women's Bible study, Shelley heard from another woman at church that that Bible study wrapped up four weeks ago.

"No!" moans Tami over the phone. She's at the kitchen table, a few feet from Eric, who is fiddling with the stove because the landlord hasn't come to fix it. "That _cannot_ be happening."

"Why not?" Shelley asks. "Listen, Ms. Psychology Major, Mom's lonely, in case you haven't noticed. And you know what? So is Mr. Taylor. And he's not bad looking for a forty-something guy. And you know mom's still gorgeous even when she tries to hide it with those frumpy clothes. All the men notice her."

"But she and Eric's dad disagree about so many things, and he lives in his head, and I think he's _still_ in love with his late wife, and Mom – "

"- They're both single, they're right next door to each other, he's a man, she's a woman - "

"Shelley, ewwww, gross, just – "

"- What?" Shelley insists. "It's not like they're related in any way."

"Do you realize if they got married, Eric would be my stepbrother!"

Shelley laughs while a muttered curse and a clanging arises in the kitchen. Eric slams the stove shut and sucks his thumb. Then he opens the oven door and kneels again.

"That's true," Shelley says. "I didn't think of that. And – oh my God, even grosser – if they had a kid, he'd be _your_ half brother _**and**_ _Eric's_ half brother."

"Well she's too old to have another kid, thank God."

"Oh really, college genius?" Shelley asks. "She _just_ turned forty. You know women can have children well into their forties."

"_Can_," Tami says. "Doesn't mean it happens often. And it would be crazy for her to have another kid. God knows I'd never have a child that late in life."

"Look, Tami, you ought to just be glad mom is finally chilling out. She's become much less of a relationship Nazi. It's different now. It's better. I know it doesn't really affect you anymore, but it totally benefits _me_."

When Tami's off the phone, she asks Eric, "Why does your dad even want to date my mom? I thought he despised her."

"Apparently not. Can we _**not**_ talk about this?"

"Fine. Can you quiz me for my psych test? Just make up questions from the lines I highlighted in the book."

"I don't understand that stuff."

"Yeah, but you can manage to quiz me on the terminology."

"A'ight," he says, laying then wrench down on top of the stove. "But then will you help me with my British lit paper?" He signed up for the class when he realized he hadn't yet filled his general literature requirement. He needs one such class to graduate at the end of the semester, even if he's majoring in phys ed and minoring in history. He tried to get into Popular Fiction, but that gut was already full, and he was stuck.

"What's your paper on?"

"Rudyard Kipling's poem, Gunga Din." He explains why he picked it. He wanted to know what his father meant, that day Eric told him he wasn't going pro, and his father, at first disappointed, had later replied, "You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din."

"And what _do_ you think he meant?" Tami asks. "Now that you've read the whole poem?"

Eric sits at the kitchen table across from her. "That he's sorry for all the abuse he's heaped on me over the years. Not that it was _really_ abuse. I mean…but he certainly could have been more encouraging. Less critical." He shrugs. "And that maybe he thinks it's more noble to be the water-bearer than the hero soldier, you know, better to be a coach than a football star. Maybe. I know he thinks I _should_ have been _able_ to go pro, but maybe he thinks I can do good things even if I'm not who you'd expect to be the hero of the poem."

"Sounds like you understand the poem pretty well. I don't think you need my help with the paper."

"I need you to check my spelling and grammar. And make sure it's in MLA format for me."

She laughs. "Be glad you married me."

"Trust me, I am."

She reaches for his hand across the table. "I am too."

**/FNL/**

To the relief of both Eric and Tami, the "incident" between their parents quickly becomes a thing of the past. Mr. Taylor's cousin dies, and he moves to New York to take over the restaurant. Tami's mom does get remarried, but to someone who is a perfect stranger to Tami, a real estate investor from San Antonio who blows into South Dillon and starts buying up cheap land when the oil business goes south and the town begins dying. He plans to tear down the houses and sell the land to farmers. Mr. Thomas visits the Baptist Temple while he's in town. Being a more mainstream Baptist, he doesn't care for the fundamentalist service, but he notices Dolly Hayes.

It's a whirlwind courtship, and Tami meets her new stepfather for the first time at the wedding. There's no time for her to form a real opinion, but he seems decent enough, and at least her mom is now set for life financially. Mr. Thomas packs up Tami's mom and younger sister and moves them to San Antonio. Shelley reports that her stepfather is "Okay. He treats Mom well. He doesn't ever hit on me, thank God." Tami's glad to hear it. She's seen enough to know it sometimes happens, and though she didn't tell Shelley, it was one of her fears about Mom getting remarried to someone Tami hadn't vetted. "He's not around much," Shelley says. "He works a lot, but he's a nice guy when he's around. Mom seems to like him."

"I should hope so," Tami said. "Since she married him."

"Yeah, well, it's all cool I guess." Shelley doesn't live with them long. She graduates six months after they marry and moves to Dallas with her boyfriend. He breaks up with her a few months after they move in together, but Shelley finds a new place to live and makes Dallas her home.

Eric gets the Pee Wee coaching position. He also teaches P.E at a junior high in Waco for a year. Tami gets hired at a nearby high school as a counselor. A year later, Eric is offered an assistant coaching position at a junior high in Midland, where he can also teach history. Tami says, "Take it. I'll find something there." She does, another counseling position, but she quits that when Julie is born. It's just as well, because soon enough, Eric gets the chance to be a quarterback coach at a high school in Macedonia, and off they go again.

Tami and Eric make their own family together, their own stable anchor in the stormy sea of dysfunction that rages all around them. Their ship bobs up and down with the winds, of course, but it's never blown away. It's not the most romantic story ever told, but it's true, and there's beauty in it. When Julie first asks how they met and fell in love, Tami will say, "We were high school sweethearts."

"That's it?" Julie will reply. "You just dated in high school and got married?"

"That's it," Tami will say. "We're just your boring old parents."

Eric, coming out of his home office, will overhear the tail end of the conversation and insist, "Boring's good" as he plops down on the couch and puts his arm around his wife. Nodding to his daughter, he'll conclude, "Just pray you find yourself a boring husband one day."

**Epilogue**

Matt Saracen looks out-of-his-skin, but handsome, in his tuxedo. "Who are all these relatives?" he asks. Other than Julie's aunt Shelley, he's never met – or even heard of - any of the extended family that now congregates at various tables throughout the reception hall. Several of the Panthers and Matt's art industry friends are here, but as far as family is concerned, there's only his mother and grandmother.

"Weddings bring my relatives out of the woodwork," Julie tells him. She runs her hands absently over the folds of her dress. It much more spectacular than the simple one her mother wore at her own wedding, but it's still not over-the-top.

Julie takes Matt by the hand and leads him around to make the introductions. He meets sixty-something aunts and uncles and forty-something cousins of Coach and Mrs. Coach, but he can't keep straight who's on who's side of the family. Then Julie directs Matt toward a young man, maybe twenty, probably twenty-one, because he's just picked up a glass of wine from the bar and is drinking it openly. He has reddish brown hair and blue-green eyes. "This is my uncle," Julie whispers as they approach.

"Uncle?" Matt hisses. "He looks like he's _your _age."

The young man smiles at Julie when the couple draws near, and a dimple appears in his left cheek. "Good to see you, Julie," he says. "How long has it been?"

"Well, we saw each other at your mom's funeral," Julie answers, "so …nine years?"

"Not exactly the Brady Bunch, are we? Well, congratulations."

"You're her uncle," Matt says in disbelief.

"Jim Thomas." He extends his hand and shakes Matt's. "Julie's grandma was my mom. She married my dad and had me in her forties. So I'm Tami's half-brother. I grew up in San Antonio and didn't see her much. I saw more of Shelley. They've always been more like aunts than sisters to me. Well, Tami has anyway. Shelley…Shelley's Shelley."

"Hey, I heard that!" Shelley appears from behind Jim and puts an arm around his shoulder. "Listen, I gave you lots of great advice when you started dating, just like any good aunt – or big sister - would."

Jim looks at Matt and whispers, "And I just did the opposite of whatever she told me to do."

"Yeah, and how did that work out for you?" Shelley asked. "You don't have a girlfriend."

"No," he says, raising his glass of wine to his lips, "but I have a 1.5 million dollar business and a boyfriend."

Matt's eyebrow shoots up.

"Touché," Shelley replies.

When they're finished talking to Julie's uncle, Matt says, "What about the priest? What's up with him?" A man whose dark black hair is half taken over by streaks of silver sits next to Coach and Mrs. Coach. He's wearing a traditional priest's cassock, and a white collar, and his dark brown cane is resting against the table.

"That's my grandpa," Julie says. "I'll introduce you."

Matt, a little stunned, shakes hands with Father Graydon Taylor. Matt assumed Coach Taylor's dad would be a Methodist, just like Coach and Mrs. Coach, and certainly never speculated he'd be a priest. Julie's never had much to say about her extended family, to put it mildly.

"They let you out of the monastery for this, gramps?" Julie asks.

Father Taylor smiles as he stands. "No, I busted out, but how could I miss it." He kisses her on both cheeks before sitting back down next to Mrs. Coach.

"Okay," Matt admits when they're semi-alone by the punch bowl. "I'm a little confused. If he's a priest…" He waves a finger toward Coach Taylor "Why does he have a son? Is he Episcopalian?"

"No, he's Catholic. But he didn't become a priest until I was like five, and I was seven or eight when he became a monk." She glances over at her grandfather.

"He really lives in a monastery?" Matt asks.

"Yeah. He went to seminary when he moved to New York, while he was running this restaurant. And then one day, he just up and sells it, gives all the money to the Church, and enters this monastery. My dad says it suits him well though because he's kind of…I don't know…internal."

Matt shakes his head. "You have a weird family," he says.

"Well, my parents are normal and boring."

"Yeah, when your dad isn't getting rocks thrown through his window and your mom's car isn't being surrounded by angry picketers."

Julie studies her parents from across the way. "Huh, when you put it that way…" She turns to Matt and smiles brightly. "Maybe we'll be lucky enough to have a boring life together."

His full lips curve as he bends to kiss her. "I could get used to that," he says. "As long as there's _one_ place it's exciting."

"Mhmmmmm…." She murmurs back as she leans in for another kiss. "I think we can manage that."


End file.
